


Grounded

by Sophie_Of_Tarth



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, F/M, Female Character In Command, Space Opera
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-07-23
Updated: 2015-12-28
Packaged: 2018-04-10 20:08:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 20
Words: 41,270
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4405769
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sophie_Of_Tarth/pseuds/Sophie_Of_Tarth
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Where the region of space known as the Stormlands abuts with the sector known as the Reach, a woefully small force patrol the area to try and deter the activities of the pirates and privateers preying on isolated settlements and unprotected craft. After three days of dog fights and dirty tricks with a Westerlander privateer vessel, Captain Brienne Tarth has finally managed to bring her prisoners into custody....<br/>Banner by Ro Nordmann<br/></p><div class="center">
  <p><br/>    <img/><br/>  </p>
</div> <br/> 
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

"Welcome aboard my ship, gentlemen. The people I need to speak to now are your commanding officers.” There was silence. Brienne stared at the prisoners, and the prisoners stared back. Some openly defiant, others blank-faced or resentful. “Oh, come on now, gentlemen, who is in charge?” she asked again, wearily. Brienne sighed at the lack of response and fingered the restraints she held loosely in her right hand. “Do I need to remind you of the Stormlands habit of executing random individuals until a commanding officer steps up?” Brienne needed no reminders. It had turned her stomach as a cadet. She had other methods to secure cooperation, but first she needed to get her hands on whoever was in control of that ship. “You have two minutes, time starts…” A man stepped forward, breaking rank, followed shortly after by another. The first of the two men was slightly taller than his companion, broad shouldered with golden thick hair that brushed the collar of his tight-fitting black shirt. With a single look he communicated an air of superiority that annoyed Brienne instantly, exuding a confidence that no one —and more particularly at this moment in time, Brienne—was a threat to either himself or whatever business had brought him to the borders of Stormlands space despite the fact she had just shot his ship to pieces. The second man was just as lean and only an inch or so shorter than his arrogant shipmate, but with a shock of red blonde hair cut to fall no lower than his ears. He had bright hazel eyes that roamed the room continuously, and although he seemed to lack the supreme assurance of his colleague, Brienne could not miss the intelligent calculation in his gaze. These two were clearly trouble.   
“So, Captain… er…?”  
“Tarth”  
“Captain Tarth , I wish I could say it was a pleasure.” The golden-haired one smiled politely but the smile fell short of his incredibly green eyes. Brienne observed the expression on his face with a studied measure of detachment, aware that even his rather unpleasant smile had an unwelcome effect on her pulse. “Your reputation precedes you in these parts.” Brienne ignored his words. She knew she had a reputation. She had spent years fostering it. “And you are?”   
“Lannister…and this my cousin, also called”—he turned to his companion—“Lannister. We would like to be returned to our ship immediately.”   
_Typical, just what she needed, a bunch of inbred Westerlanders!_  
Brienne found herself irritated by the fact the blond did not even give her a full name, even though he must know she was the commander of the vessel that had just captured his ship. He had also given no rank although his name sounded suspiciously familiar. “Our ship’s systems indicate several salvage pirates are already starting to circle our location. I would not be so keen to return to a crippled ship without the means to repair it if I were you.” She considered prompting him for a first name but decided against it. Brienne was not about to give him further opportunities to be clever at her expense. “Of course you can return to your ship shortly if you tell us your business in the area, and provide us with the relevant codes so we can check your story against your ship’s records,” Brienne replied crisply. “You may even find us generous enough to offer repairs and assistance.”   
The second-in-command Lannister gave an unmistakeable snort of disbelief but the breathtakingly handsome, green eyed Lannister simply gave a small, humourless smile. “Both you and I know, Captain Tarth, that I am in no way obliged to comply. I was not in Stormlands controlled space when you attacked us, so I am perfectly within my rights to refuse you.”   
“I pursued you from a restricted zone and have arrested you here because you are now in restricted space,” Brienne insisted, resisting the urge to raise her voice as she felt a flicker of annoyance lick at his calm intransigence. “Why had you crossed to that position within the border zone at all if not to cross into Stormlands space directly?” Jaime simply stood with folded arms. “If you have nothing to hide then you should have no problem with answering any questions we put to you,” Brienne persisted. No answer, so she turned to his companion,“So, have you anything to add to your colleague’s explanation?” A slow, lazy smile spread across the other man’s face as he simply added, “No. Jaime’s in charge.” Brienne took a deep breath. Perhaps it was simply too much to expect to capture a Westerlander privateer vessel, and gain a full confession from the crew all in one day.   
Captain Brienne Tarth gave a long sigh and crooked a finger at the individual she now knew to be called Jaime Lannister, “Follow me,” she told him.  
His friend went to follow, but Brienne stopped him with a hand to his chest.  
“Not you,” she told him nodding at the tall scowling figure of Jaime Lannister by his side, “He’s the one I want.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Where Jaime Lannister discovers Brienne Tarth is a woman on a mission...  
> Banner by Ro Nordmann  
> 
> 
>   

Jaime Lannister looked every inch the pirate—lean, handsome and dangerously angry. Ironically, Reach privateers were far less of a problem than the individuals that Brienne was actually hunting for in this sector because they operated in small groups and lacked the powerful backup of her real targets. The really dangerous adversaries in this part of space were the Reach political insurgents, operating with the full backup of the incredibly rich and powerful Westerland collectives. Brienne’s commanders were fighting a losing battle to prevent worlds on the edge of the Stormland-controlled areas from forging political relations with the predatory Westerlands and the anarchic Sparrows. Not every resident within the minor galaxies was happy with the old methods of planetary government, particularly when it was brutally backed up by the more committed Stormland Houses. As the heir of Tarth, the daughter of the Evenstar, Brienne was one of the few considered a safe choice to be patrolling such a sensitive part of space.   
Brienne had had to find her own way of delivering what her command wanted of her, whilst still being able to sleep at night. What she did not do was to return people, even if they were outside the law, to a crippled ship to be butchered by the lost men, brutal salvage specialists who had little use for whole or living scrap be it human or inorganic. But she never forgot, was never allowed to forget, that it was an unwritten rule that anyone who crossed her liege house should be made an example of.   
“Go in.” Brienne arrived in her cabin after the escort, and signalled the guards to leave, shaking her head when they indicated that the restraints around the prisoner’s wrists be removed. She took the restraint control from the head guard as he left, leaning back against the door once it had shut behind them. 

“Alone at last,” Jaime quipped sarcastically.  
“Yes indeed, alone at last,” she said responded finally. Truth be told, she always felt a little queasy at this point, although Brienne could not tell if it was due to a fear of being found out or a warped sense of anticipation. It was important that she do what needed to be done without it being seen as altruistic. Brienne also needed to ensure the commanding officers never spoke about what happened in her cabin. She had a fleet-wide reputation for being able to somehow secure the most sensitive and useful data yet only Brienne knew for sure how she did it.  
She heard rather than saw Jaime Lannister come to a halt as she pushed herself away from the door.   
“Strip,” Brienne instructed him in an offhand manner. She walked over to a chair in the middle of the room, only to look back and see him stood there, hands on hips, regarding her with a speculative green gaze.   
“Strip!” she told him again, lowering her voice to give it more authority.   
“And what if I say no?”Jaime asked by way of reply.   
Brienne tweaked the restraint control in her pocket briefly.   
“Shit!” Jaime glared at her, his eyes blazing. “That hurt, woman!”   
“It was meant to, man.”   
“Now look here…”   
“Captain,” she reminded him, her tone crisp. “My name is Captain Brienne Tarth. Now do as you are told, and just strip.”   
Brienne found her unique approach to be effective. Such was the machismo of the Westerosi systems, so precious was a man’s reputation, that she had found the ideal method to ensure silence from the ship’s commanders she’d encountered so far. Her methods also allowed enough time to secure the discreet download of as much information as possible from whatever was left of the crippled ship’s systems before the crew were returned.  
“You have a limited number of choices… would you like to hear the options?” Would Jaime Lannister be the first to refuse her? For a brief moment it wasn’t part of her job. The part she liked least where she had to make sure outlaws would be wary enough of her or the Stormland forces to not cross them again. “Think of it as a choice…a chance to save your colleagues, your crew, your friends. Only you can choose cooperation Jaime… but there will be a price.”   
“And I’m to pay you with what? Information?” Jaime asked her, his hands still on his hips, “what if I tell you I haven’t got any information? What if I tell you I’m just the unlucky member of a privateer crew who were out to make a few dragons on what has turned out to be the most unfortunate foraging trip yet?”  
“I wouldn’t believe you,” Brienne replied.

 _Jaime's men hadn’t fought like inexperienced privateers._  
_They hadn’t fought like privateers at all - they had been far better at brutal space combat than that._  
_Suspiciously better._

Jaime seemed to be wondering about her as well.  
“Who are you?” he finally asked her, “who do you work for?”  
“That’s not for you to know,” she replied tartly.  
Jaime regarded her for a moment and then seemed to decide to completely ignore her, setting out on an exploration of her cabin instead, looking closely at anything within his line of sight.  
“Tarth… Tarth… Lord Selwyn Tarth, the Evenstar… I didn’t know he had a son,” Jaime eyed her blatantly from head to toe before turning his back on her, “sorry, of course I mean… daughter?”  
Brienne bit her tongue in an effort to remain impassive.

 _Don’t rise to the bait, he’s an arrogant, rude…_  
_Don’t lose your cool.._

The longer she delayed returning him to his ship, the longer she had to not only interrogate the Westerlander, but his ship’s systems. Data and information was at a premium, data with context even more so. Dates, times, locations, sightings, even the smallest piece of information could yield a wealth of knowledge and understanding as to her adversaries whereabouts and intentions.   
“And let’s say I decide not to cooperate?” asked Jaime, his tone a little too careless to be true in Brienne’s opinion.   
“I’ll further incapacitate your vessel, leave you and your crew to be carved up for profit by whoever gets to your sorry backside first,” she lied.   
“You disappoint me Brienne, but I suppose I shouldn’t expect anything less from a Stormlander,” he said. " I still find it hard to believe you’d do it.”   
He watched her still, his green gaze as luminous as a wildfire storm and almost as hard to look at, his beautiful face twisted into one of harsh judgement.  
Brienne gave a humourless laugh, hardly able to credit he had the gall to try and make her feel bad about apprehending a band of cutthroats. “Believe it.” But the next look Jaime gave her— an almost knowing look, made her really uncomfortable. Like he knew what she was up to and was about to make her secrets his own. “So tell me Brienne Tarth, what in the seven galaxies are you expecting me to tell you ?”   
“You’ll have to strip first,” she told him in her best bored voice, “My information is mine, no one else’s… unless you have been very creative, any listening devices you have on you will be an integrated part of your clothing.”  
Jaime Lannister’s scowl slowly transformed itself into a twisted grin, “or is it the only way an ugly beast such as yourself gets to see anything more than your own… skin?”  
That hurt, even though she knew it was a deliberate ploy to get under said skin, that still hurt.  
“Just get your clothes off Lannister,” she growled, “now!”


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Where there is some confusion about what kind of knowledge Brienne actually wants...  
> Banner by Ro Nordmann  
> 
> 
>   

“Tell me what you want from me first,” Jaime responded promptly, his arrogant mask back in place as if it had never slipped.  
Brienne had to bite back the frustrated growl that instantly rose in her throat.  
This man was so beyond annoying, he was in another dimension.  
“That is not how it works,” Brienne struggled to keep her tone reasonable, “To save your crew you need to tell me something I don't know."

"I'm not usually asked to remove my breeches when I stop to talk."

Gods did he have to be quite so awkward!

"I can see the lightfibres running through your clothing from here Lannister. There is no maybe about it... I can see you are literally absorbing every word I say. Strip. I... I have questions to ask. You would find it easier to cooperate if you relaxed...had a drink maybe?” Some did. Brienne had been quite taken aback at some of the things she had learnt from her ‘guests’ without any effort on her part to really get them to talk.

 _The most important thing was to get the leaders alone without any proof of what they had said to her._  
_Then it was a simple case of lying about what you had been told by them because the real information came from the data she gathered from their ships systems._

_But you weren't supposed to do that. You weren't supposed to be able to do that._

  
_So it wasn’t dishonorable… not if it saved a life that wanted to be saved...surely..._

"I don't need your drinks."

"You might regret not taking advantage of something that is offered," she warned him.

Jaime Lannister was not turning out to be the easiest of men to save.

“Are you threatening me?” The green gaze was broken glass sharp as his eyes narrowed.  
“I’m…” Brienne screwed her face up as she thought carefully about what words might yield the best results, “persuading you.”  
“To what?”  
“Cooperate.”

_How hard did she have to work to save this stupid man’s life?_

“Why should I cooperate with you?”  
“Because I might actually kill you otherwise,” Brienne tried not to seethe as he answered yet another question with one of his own.

_He had to be the most vexatious..._

  
She had always had the more powerful hand in these situations, but she had never had to actually use it. So far all of the human detritus she had plucked from the jaws of death usually regarded her interventions as a gift from the gods.

_Apart from this one._

“You won’t kill me.” Jaime said, his tone confident, the glance thrown from beneath his ridiculously long lashes as inappropriate as it was insincere.  
“You think not?” Brienne replied grimly, desperate to be seen as deadly serious. “I’m not as sure as you seem to be. It really is a simple choice. Strip, cooperate, and you get to be out of here in about two hours and I get something to keep me entertained on the long, tedious patrols around the edge of Stormland space.”

Brienne would spend all of her spare time analysing the information she managed to gather. It was painstakingly pedantic work. Every course, every reading, any contact or message, could give rise to a thread of data that led to valuable information.

But the man before her had a very different reaction to the prospect of endless analysis.

Lannister stilled, halting his restless posturing in an instant to study her with disbelief, whilst muttering something under his breath that sounded remarkably like a curse.

“Is that how you do it?” His gaze was so penetrating it was as if he could see inside her head. “Is that how you’ve managed to secure such a fearsome reputation? I did wonder,” he took time to let loose a brief burst of laughter and shake his head,” What a time you must have with all the sexually repressed enemies of the Stormlands Alliance. What a blackmail asset to hold… I take it you record it all... gods, how humiliating for them.” His eyes flicked over the ceiling and walls as if to seek out the hardware she had had discretely located about the cabin.

_Sexually repressed? What did that have to do with anything?_

Brienne watched him, nonplussed.  
“Well of course I do, it’s… it’s necessary.”  
The proof that someone had divulged information to someone like Brienne Tarth, was a deadly enough weapon to hold against anyone in the Reach.  
There was little that couldn’t be used, and if necessary, in an emergency, content could always be tweaked to make it far more of a potent threat.  
And Brienne had learnt quickly that individuals rarely remembered what they had actually said… precisely.

“So the first rule must be what happens within these walls, stays here,” Jaime Lannister observed his gaze still scanning the interior of her cabin.  
“Yes,” Brienne assured him, mentally counting the seconds as her precious data was about to start its rapid download from the captured Westerland craft.  
“And people keep your secret willingly?”  
“I never talk and I am more than prepared to persuade people. One has to maintain a certain reputation for uncomfortable consequences,” she replied, pleasantly surprised that he seemed to be coming around, and that she could sound so cool when her heart was pounding so loudly.  
Jaime’s slight huff of surprised laughter made her stiffen slightly.

_What is he laughing at?_

“Not a virgin then?”  
Brienne frowned at his question, meeting his bright gaze directly as he studied her slowly from her head to her toes, “it must have been hard growing up. Did a few try to get inside big beastly Brienne?” His tone was sarcastic, and not a little cruel as he continued to talk. “Hold you down? Show you what it is to be a woman?  
“Is that what made Big Brienne want to be the one in charge?”

 _Maybe I need to gag him before he says anything more_ , she thought.

“What upsets them more?” Jaime whispered, "being fucked by you-" 

 _Yes._  
_I need to gag him._

"-or being fucked by a woman who looks like man?"

Brienne froze, the words she was about to speak clogged her throat. Silence reigned for a brief moment until she finally swallowed.

"Shut your mouth," she finally snapped but realised that with his acerbic words, her prisoner had achieved what should have been impossible. Somehow her captive, Jaime Lannister, had gained the upper hand.

  
“Does it feel good, Captain Tarth?” The man just did not stop his needling, “To be the one calling the shots?”

Brienne recoiled at the thought of using anyone that way to get information, or indeed any advantage.

Her mind flitted briefly back to Hyle Hunt and the Bitterbridge debacle, the humiliation, the mortification.

_And now this man thought she was about to humiliate him sexually as a way to blackmail him into silence._

Brienne was aware of a brief sense of shock that anyone could think she would act in such a way.

 _But he doesn't know me,_ she realised.

  
Yet if she openly denied Jaime Lannister's assumption, it would just make things worse. He was still potentially wired for sound and collecting the details of their conversation even as they spoke.

_Don't panic._

_Lie._

_He was the enemy after all._

“Assume nothing,” supplied Brienne swallowing awkwardly, her expression fierce. “it’s just what I have to do. I'm not here to discuss methods.... Do I need to call the guards back?...”  
Jaime Lannister was watching her reactions to his words too closely, Brienne felt each hesitation on her part yawn like a pit before her.

“Are you not worried that one of your rescue projects will run straight to Stormlands command?” he asked her, his expression still that of a man waiting for each and every telltale tic in her response. "To tell your precious leader Renly Baratheon exactly what you do to promote his hopeless cause."  
"It's not a hopeless cause, Renly would make a wonderful leader..."  
"Ah, so you are a member of the Stormlands Alliance," Lannister's cunning smile blossomed as her heart dropped at her slip,"Such a paragon might not agree with your methods."

_That was most likely the truth._

Brienne shrugged, sure that her discomfort must be obvious to him by now but reluctant to give away any more than she had done so already.  
Her prisoner gave another huff of laughter.  
“A gambler at heart, I never would have guessed.”  
Jaime Lannister glanced at her briefly as if re-evaluating her.

_Seven hells, may the Maiden save me._

“Indeed,” Brienne agreed because she couldn’t think of anything else to say. She sat in her chair, her legs straight out, wriggling her booted feet. He watched her do it, his brief expression of interest morphing into a gaze rather more calculating than Brienne felt comfortable with. She rubbed the restraint control in her pocket, its presence soothing. _Ignore him, you are in charge,_ it told her reassuringly.  
“So, clothes off or I will think you have chosen to return to your crippled ship.” Brienne told him firmly.  
Her green-eyed tormentor finally conceded a reluctant smirk of almost admiration.  
“Wench, you are one persistant piece of work.” He licked his lips and then smiled, looking boyishly handsome as he did so, disarmingly so. “Care to suggest what you would like me to do first?”

 _I have no idea - just get rid of the threads,_ Brienne thought wildly to herself, but Jaime seemed more cooperative now he had come to some conclusion of his own about her motivation.

“I’m er… not fussy. All I require is for you to take your clothes off.”

 _I can do this,_ she told herself.

Brienne glanced at Jaime out of the corner of her eye as she settled herself only to intercept the briefest of glances in her direction.

She blinked. _What did that look mean?_

Jaime raised his arms above his head, pulling the black close-fitting shirt he wore up over his shoulders. It clung lovingly to his body as he dragged it across his smooth, toned torso, his voice muffled as he said, “I am not about to abandon my crew to the mercy of Stormland salvage dogs and lost men. If there is the smallest chance of getting out of this mess, I’ll take it.” Brienne was jolted by a wave of pure lust at the sight of so much of him. A blinding, heart-stoppingly brilliant glimpse of just how beautiful the man was struck her momentarily speechless. A curl of pure desire unfolding low in her abdomen as she blinked at the unfamiliar pull. Her thighs became restless and she moved in her chair to sit further forward, then worried it might make her look eager to watch him strip, she shoved herself back again and crossed her legs.  
"At bloody last," she scowled, going on to say "thank you" in a tone that totally undermined her acknowledgement of his eventual cooperation.  
Her tormentor simply raised his eyebrows and took an age to undo the last button.  
Jaime pulled his head free of his shirt, his golden hair flopping back over his face in glorious disarray, fine strands clinging desperately to the shirt as he tugged it from his body.  
His wildfire green eyes never leaving her face as he did so.

 _Don’t react!_ Brienne told herself with gritty control. _Be in charge, stay in charge and you’ll win,_ she reminded herself.

"You should release me from these." He raised his wrists slightly to indicate his fetters.  
"Do I look stupid?"  
“How do you expect me to do anything with these on?” Jaime asked her, indicating the wrist restraints that allowed him to pull his shirt over his head but not remove his breeches due to the way his hands were confined.  
“To get that undone,” she replied gruffly attempting to hide her reaction, “you do not need to be released…”

Brienne grudgingly got up from her chair and moved behind Jaime to undo his breeches herself. With an awkward fumbling flick of her wrist she released the fastening so that they lay open across his lean hips, blanking the unexplained urge to run her fingers over his smooth, warm skin. His erection pushed at the confines of his clothing, hard and eager despite his show of exasperated non compliance.  
In a sharp movement, he bought his confined wrists down on her hand, trapping it against the fall of his breeches and his cock in a deliberate movement.

 _Ye gods, he's rock hard!_ She tugged her hand free with hard breath.

This whole interlude was doing something for her awkward captive that she could never have anticipated. Despite her height advantage he still managed to loom over her like predatory beast as she quickly scooped his clothes up from where he had dropped them on the floor, and threw them into the quarantine locker where they could do no harm.

_It was done._

Brienne hurriedly stepped back the few paces to her chair, doing her best to look calm, but did not sit down, aware, as she was subjected to a knowing gaze, that as bound and as vulnerable as Jaime Lannister was, somehow, he was still managing to encroach on her control of the situation.

“Well this could be awkward, Captain,” Jaime flicked a long lock of pure gold from his eyes and then looked at her long and hard as if expecting something more from her, "depending on what you decide to do next," He stood before her, stripped, exposed, yet seemingly totally at ease, his erect cock partially hidden by his bound hands.

Brienne's mouth was dry and running her tongue of her lips did nothing to help.

“Its nothing of the sort,” she replied, and then had to swallow before going on to say, “but it is your choice. I can still simply put yourselves and your crew back on board that heap of twisted metal that we all persist in calling a ship and I’ll resign myself to leaving you there for the scum that prey on the helpless in these parts.” Jaime’s regard was turning to pure ice the longer she stared at him. Crap, thought Brienne, he’s going to call my bluff. Her hand tightened on the restraint control and without thinking her eyes darted to the commlink. She could just call a security detail and have him taken away. She would have to hope that the data she rescued from the battle scarred privateer craft gave her some suitably obscure information that she could claim was revealed to her by him whilst they were in her cabin. Insurance was proving to be a tricky business.

“An interesting definition of scum, Captain.” Jaime suddenly grinned.

Brienne licked her lips, and could not resist peeking at Jaime Lannisters lean golden skinned body as he stood before her, baffled at how such a hateful individual could stir such a scalding want for something she didn't really understand or need.

 _A woman's weakness_.

“Come here, Brienne.” Jaime’s voice was soft. It pulled at the very part of her that had been in torment as she watched. Brienne could only stare back at him, her pulse thumping in her ears.

“I…can’t,” Brienne croaked.

At that point her commlink crackled into life.

“Tarth, code red.” It was her squad leader Loras just moving into range from the borderlands, sounding frustrated and angry. Brienne checked the time. Jaime’s strange spell was broken as reality came crashing in. She’d done it—the privateer server data was hers.

“Sorry, but I have to go,” Brienne said brightly, her tone belied by her flushed face. “ The guards are on their way to escort you off my vessel. They'll return your clothes. You’ll be pleased to know your own recovery ships are only minutes away.” Brienne needed to get out of there before they arrived.

_Code red meant Westerland war ships._

Her tiny craft would not stand a chance against their might and she was not about to be a scalp on anyone’s belt. Brienne cared too much to betray Renly's faith in her ability to form part of his elite Kingsguard force just because she'd been distracted by a pretty face.

 _A very pretty face._  
_With the body of a god._

“Running away, Brienne?” Jaime moved towards her, but Brienne simply pulled the restraint control from her pocket and held it before her. "You're not scared of me... are you? Or is it yourself that you are scared of?" he kept moving even as she backed away, "Scared of what you might do? Scared of what you might want to do? Some boys like a challenge... did you not take your chances when they came your way before? Did you wish one of them might fling you down, tear off your clothes?... But they didn't did they... that didn't stop you wishing they had though..."

_And the mind of a beast._

"Not interested."

"Of course you are, you'd love to know what it feels like to be a woman."

Jaime stopped in his tracks, a cool smile on his face. It was a smile that implied things were far from over.

The disembodied voice of Loras Tyrell crackled into the silence of her cabin yet again.

"Captain Tarth, I repeat, Code Red. For the love of the seven, you need to get out of there now!"


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Brienne discovers that not all men are created equal  
> Banner by Ro Nordmann  
> 
> 
>   

It was a few days after Brienne had evaded one of the biggest gatherings of Westerland warships she had ever seen, that she was called from her evening duties by an urgent communication from her squad commander, Loras Tyrell.

Loras had just received two disturbing pieces of information.

The first was from a delegation of ambassadors from the capital of the Westerlands system, protesting volubly and most publicly at the Stormlands Alliance Headquarters about an illegal attack on a Lannister Company Barge in the immediate area of Brienne's patrol a few days earlier.

And the second piece of information was that her second in command, Cuy, had contacted Loras, and then Renly, to register his concerns about her actions towards a privateer ship he had later discovered to be registered to the wealthy, and powerful, Lannister family. 

_Ser Jaime Lannister, not a distant relative but the heir to Casterly Rock, had been on board engaged in company business, apparently._

_Ser Jaime Lannister,_ Brienne fumed, _lied._

He had made her look incompetent and not a little stupid.

She had captured _Jaime Lannister,_ the Kingslayer, and had never even realised it.

_Idiot!_

It had hurt, really hurt, but it still begged the question....

_What had the Kingslayer been up to in her area of the Reach?_

And then that sonofabitch Cuy had blown the whistle on her. No surprise given Cuy’s proclivities. If that arrogant bastard Jaime Lannister had flashed that bewitching smile as he put his breeches back on, and spun some pathetic sob story to Cuy, Brienne was not surprised at the outcome and she was fuming as a result.

It was as if the cocksure Jaime Lannister was laughing at her across the thousands of light years distance between the Stormlands and the western reaches.  
The Stormlands Alliance, and her part in it, was her life. But still, every day, she was in the position of having to prove herself as the toughest and the most resilient of commanders to both her inferior and superior officers. The Tarth family, and more specifically her father, placed Brienne under intense pressure to justify turning her back on the demands of being the heir of Tarth. Friendships and relationships had always been a struggle for Brienne, and she knew she had become self-sufficient and focused to the point of blinkered where her career was concerned. All in an effort to prove herself to her father and to the others who stood by waiting for her to fail.

It could be bleak and lonely at times.

_At times like this._

Brienne continued to analyze the precious data she had liberated from the Lannister vessel, hiding her anger at Cuy’s uncharacteristically assertive action from her crew. 

“Did Lannister tell you anything of use?” Loras asked her when he contacted her again.

“Nothing much, he was too busy telling me he was just the humble member of a privateer crew who was out to make a few dragons on a foraging trip.”

_However the systems... the data captured from a Lannister vessel, that should be most enlightening,_ she had thought to herself. 

But she wasn't about to tell Loras Tyrell that.

As for the capture and release of Jaime Lannister... _it didn’t matter. Not really._ Brienne had agreed to let him go because she already had what she wanted from the encounter.  
And that was before it had even been known it was an official Lannister vessel.  
She’d make herself feel better by finding something useful from the stolen data.

All Brienne needed now was time.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A surprise visitor is bad news for Captain Tarth  
> Banner by Ro Nordmann  
> 
> 
>   

“Brienne?” a voice sang softly in her ear. "Bri-e-nn-e...?"

Brienne surfaced from her sleep instantly. None of her crew would ever use her given name, or certainly approach her, in person, in her quarters or use quite that tone. A whispering laugh of a sarcastic voice. They would hail her on the ship’s comms if they dared.

“Captain Tarth, wake up.” At the use of her title Brienne struggled awake to find the world was still in darkness. She put a hand out to activate the light by her bedside only to have it deftly caught and twisted behind her back. Her other wrist was quickly captured and held.

“Are you awake, Brienne?” her visitor whispered across her cheek. A hand-held light came on suddenly in her face, blinding her temporarily.

“Yes, yes, I’m awake,” she managed to force out, turning her face away from the brightness. “Cut the light please?” Whoever it was, did not, so Brienne kept her head turned away.

“You’ve been such a bad girl, Brienne.” Brienne’s abdomen went into spasm as she recognised the voice. A restraint clicked into place on her wrists, trapping her in her waking position, face down on the bed. All trace of sleepiness fled as Brienne instantly became battle-alert, adrenaline coursing through her in a dread rush. She swung her legs round in an effort to kick out and maybe escape her prone position face down. Instead, her ankles were trapped and used to drag her along the length of her bed until she was pulled over the padded end, belly down, with her bottom cheeks angled into the air and her toes just about able to touch the floor. She was totally helpless.

“You won’t find anything you idiot. No codes or important documents are stored in here - I'm not stupid,” she spat, her tone scathing as she thought frantically of ways to get herself out of this fix. Her cheek squashed against the soft bed covering was making her voice sound odd and less than authoratitive. 

“I don’t need a code, Brienne,” was the reply, "give me a little credit."

Her personal system access screens flickered to life, illuminating the all too familiar face of Jaime Lannister as he set about working his way through a series of data displays.

_Ser Jaime bloody Lannister himself._

_The one that got away._

Not this time if she had anything to do with it!

“What are you doing here?” she renewed her desperate struggles. “We released your vessel. You were supposed to leave the sector.”

“Couldn't do that I'm afraid because you stole key information from our wrecked ship’s systems. How you did it is something of a mystery as we had definitely deleted everything," he ducked down to whisper in her ear, " But still you managed to recover enough to trigger the alerts that tell us when data is stolen. How did you do that wench?”

Brienne scowled and turned her face away from his, "I don't know what you are talking about." 

_So that was what he was here for. To destroy the potentially valuable information that had turned up from his ship’s files._

It was understandable, if immensely annoying that he had worked out what she had done before he had been back on the far side of the universe in some obscure Westerland space port.

“Apparently you are an ambitious risk taker,” Jaime spoke as if he was quoting from a personnel reference. “Did you know you have a reputation for dogged determination and a pedantic attention to detail? Don't you think you sound like a bit of a loner, Captain Tarth? “ 

"Who told you that?"

"No one had to - it's a matter of record, wench."

Ser Jaime fucking Lannister would appear to have done some background checks on her while he was away.

“Do you think the kind of access you are making will go unnoticed?” Brienne demanded. “To tamper with an Alliance system is tantamount to treason... what you are doing is a direct attack on Renly Baratheon, you'll die for it.”

“Do you think I have any intention whatsoever of getting caught?”

“I don't think you will have any choice,” she replied bluntly carefully keeping her temper in check, "because I am going to do my best to make sure you don't leave."

"Well I certainly hope you have more success with that than you did spotting my arrival," Jaime replied, "so good luck with that,"

"Do your worst, Kingslayer," she spat.

"Really Captain... or should I call you Brienne?" His soft scoffing laugh held a surprisingly sensuous note as he ran his hands over her rigid body checking for any concealed weapons. “I'm impressed, Brienne. To use whatever means at your disposal to get the information you require to help the Stormlands Alliance, appears to be one of your very real talents and something for the Alliance to foster,” Jaime’s voice dropped to a low, chastising whisper. "However to then save it onto your private systems, now that is probably not. I must say wench, who would ever have thought you had it in you? "

"My name is Captain Brienne Tarth, and its none of your business what I do to the data I salvage."

Brienne turned her face away from her interrogator, biting her lip in an effort to quell the urge to squirm. The truth was she neither liked nor trusted her subordinate officers, but she was not about to tell an unscrupulous space pirate that.

Jaime Lannister might be the first son of the Westerlands, heir to Casterly Rock and the riches of the western enterprises, but he was still a pirate. An honourless privateer who would betray his own leader, and had, if it meant more power for his collective.

Brienne knew she should immediately put all the data she liberated from systems on the Alliance information grid, of course she did, but she didn't trust the majority of her subordinates, she certainly didn't trust Cuy, who'd gone straight to Renly with the little information that the crew had been able to secure. No wonder they were so pissed. They trusted her about as much as she trusted them.

“The general consensus across the whole of the crew seems to be that you are a monstrous beast of a woman who serves only Renly,” Jaime had finished his search but continued to run his fingertips across the skin of one shoulder.

Brienne struggled once more with the restraints, pulling them hard in an effort to drag them from her wrists.

"And you do seem to be exceptionally... beastly." There a note of amused admiration in his voice that seemed singularly inappropriate given their circumstances. "I almost feel bad for depriving you of all that data you so cleverly managed to pull from our systems. Who would have thought it of you Brienne of Tarth?"

"I did nothing wrong," she protested furiously, "I had a right of salvage."

"Of course you did nothing wrong," he murmured soothingly in her ear, "but what you did wasn't right either."

“I suggest you get back to your ship and get away from here as fast as you can, because as soon as I am able, I am going to kick your backside to the far side of the west and probably beyond,” she snarled at him, the loss of her prized data and at him for invading her personal space finally pushing her temper beyond breaking point.

“Are you?” Jaime turned away from the systems access point fully for the first time. “You should watch your mouth, Captain, or I might be tempted to finish what you started during our last encounter.”

“Don’t be so ridiculous, you know full well I was just killing time to allow the data to download.”

"Oh, I know," But as she twisted her head round to catch his eye, something in his gaze made her breath catch, "but you still did what you did."

A broad hand with outstretched fingers cracked down across her right buttock. Brienne spluttered with shock and rage, furious. She could feel a tide of red flooding her face as she finally managed to grit her teeth, determined to show him just how tough she was. Thwack! The slap of a hand sounded again, the impact of it striking flesh followed by the humiliating searing burn across her backside on the left buttock this time. After the fourth, her teeth were not clenched anymore and she was cursing hard, her backside no doubt as red as her face.

"Take the damn restraints off and try that," she spat at him.

"Do I look that stupid?" he replied,"You'd chop my head off with your bare hands. Look at you!"

She didn't need to see her own face to know that her fury was clear and whatever he was, Jaime wasn't stupid. As he moved back into her line of vision her tormentor seemed confident his mission was going to be a success, a wide grin on his face, eyebrows raised, his eyes lit wildfire green. He looked supremely pleased with himself.

“Get up, Brienne,” Jaime whispered in her ear, sliding her back so her feet were once more in contact with the floor. "I think you should come with me."

His breath was hot in her ear, more a sensual promise than a cold threat.

“Make me,” she spat, using the purchase of the floor to kick out at him. He captured her with an arm about the waist and pulled her firmly towards his lap but with her legs free she tangled her long limbs in his and brought them both crashing down.

Jaime landed with a grunt beneath them, Brienne sprawled over his muscular thighs, head down, she suddenly knew what it was about. Unfamiliar yet unmistakable desire started to unfold in her gut as she continued to wrestle herself away, Jaime still gripping her long limbs as she attempted to pull herself to her feet.

“Ah, Brienne,” was all her captor struggled to say as they continued to fight, " You do think I'm not strong enough!”

“No, you are just stupid enough to try!” She twisted as his hand slid over her back to the line of her backside as he looked to get a grip on her skin. Brienne twisted against him again, spitting with anger but also now trying to resist succumbing to the erotic charge of her situation as she threw herself out of his grip and away from the bed, putting the restraint beneath one foot in an effort to release it so she could fight with both her hands.

The restraints clicked open as she stamped on the catch.

"Whoops!" Jaime grinned at her, hands outstretched as he realised her hands were free, "Or is that what all the boys say?"

Brienne became all too aware of the burning need inside her to shut him up, as his constant taunting registered even as she assessed her next best move.

"Come here and say that Lannister," she snarled.

Ser Jaime Lannister simply laughed at her, a wicked snap of a laugh that made his green eyes dance and his teeth flash in the half-light, "Why? What are you going to do to me Brienne?"

She lunged forward to grab him, but he danced away, her hands closing only on the breeze left by his body as he moved.

"Spank me back?" his grin was a teasing dare, "You owe me after all."

"I'm going to put you in the restraints," Brienne promised, her tone grim.

"Boring," Jaime pulled a face as he ducked behind her cabin desk, "you've already done that wench! Come on, you can do better than that."

"Give up yourself up Jaime. There's nowhere for you to run," she told him grimly.

“You don't want me to just to give up, do you Brienne?” Jaime asked again, his voice taunting her still, "you like the challenge... does it make you feel good?" he dodged her once again, "Does getting the better of me, do it for you?"

“Shut your mouth.” She swallowed desperately.

_How does he do it? How does he manage to get under my skin every time?_

The thought of being left on the edge again, still burning as she had been from their previous encounter days before, was almost too much for her. She blinked in an effort to shut out the beautiful man twisting and pacing before her, effortlessly dodging every one of her attempts to grab him.

"Give up," she urged him, "and I won't hurt you."

"You won't?" Jaime pulled a sad face and then stopped still, his wrists outstretched as if in surrender, "now that's a shame".

Brienne strode forward to seize him only to find that Jaime had stepped to one side to catch her arms at the wrist. Both of them struggled to get the upper hand, Brienne realising that for all her unnatural size, in height and in body strength they were almost an even match.

_Almost._

Jaime looked straight into her eyes, his green gaze adrenaline hot.

"You're big Brienne, but maybe not quite as clever-" Jaime stepped into her, his expression suddenly calculating, "-as me."

As she tensed her muscles to try and get control of Jaime's arms, he twisted her wrists and brought a more awkward strength to bear, pushing them both back towards until the wall behind her stopped Brienne's staggering retreat with a thump.

_Gods, what kind of man is he?_

Brienne could only blink, his show of combat superiority given that she had at least an inch on him in height was shocking.

It had never happened before.

“Has anyone ever told you that you have quite extraordinary eyes,” Jaime panted softly in her ear as he rested his chin on her shoulder and nudged her ear lobe with his nose. Chest pressed against her breasts as he pushed her back against the wall, both of them breathing heavily, the movement of them both trying to catch their breath pushing her onto Jaime's mouth and almost onto his tongue. Her body appeared to have acquired a life of its own, no longer hers to command.

“Come with me, Brienne,” Jaime whispered, "you know you are wasted here."

“I can’t.” Did the man not understand? She tried to push him back but was ruthlessly held in place, her thighs between Jaime’s legs, she could feel his cock long and hard against the soft skin of her thigh.

"Renly isn't the one for you," Jaime's shit eating grin was back on his face, "you're too much of a man for him. You don't fancy him do you?"

"Of course not," she replied instantly, a red flush sweeping over her face once more.

"Gods, you do." The grin remained in place but the green eyes studied her face in great detail, his lips almost touching hers. "but then I don't suppose we get to choose the ones we love, do we?"

Her gasped reaction to his words temporarily drowned out the sounds of her craft's alarms as the ship’s sensors finally identified there was an intruder aboard.

Click!

Ser Jaime Lannister had tricked her again as she found one wrist attached to the cabin wall with one half of the restraints she had managed to shed previously.

Brienne stared down at her imprisoned hand and then back at him with dismay.

_You tricky fucking-_

"Bastard!"

Brienne slumped against the wall, momentarily stunned as the man with her prepared to flee. Jaime Lannister turned to leave, then looked back, turning to seize her chin and dispense a swirling kiss into her slack mouth, his own mouth hot on hers.

“Time to go,” Jaime told her before turning once more to leave. “Try not to miss me too much, Captain,” he whispered to Brienne as he finally slipped through the door to her cabin, and into the dark corridor beyond.

“No chance of that,” mumbled Brienne as she finally managed to hit the alarm next to her bed by stretching out as far as she could with the unrestrained arm. “Intruder alert— intruder aboard. Two extra cycles of shore leave to whoever can get to him first... and someone get in here and release me!”


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Brienne of Tarth is left to deal with the aftermath of the visit  
> Banner by Ro Nordmann  
> 
> 
>   

The crew never managed to catch the space pirate to claim the shore leave and Brienne found herself still dealing with the aftermath of the visitor to her quarters for what felt like weeks after the incident. It had been the heat sensors on her craft that had identified an intruder was aboard during a routine sweep.

Damn the man.

Brienne had had to explain what the additional heat signature had been doing in her cabin for fifty-five standard minutes and ten seconds.

“The intruder had gained access to the ship’s systems and was deleting data,” she had told an initial enquiry headed by Renly over space-conn, and chaired, at their leader’s request, by Loras.

“I take it this was data that you had removed from their vessel after the earlier engagement?” Loras asked.

Brienne thought it prudent to say nothing specific in response to Loras’s question, and simply answered, “He seemed anxious to ensure any information regarding their vessel was removed from the system.” Renly simply grunted. Loras shuffled his notes.

“It would not take that long to delete data,” Loras said. “What else was he doing?”

Brienne looked straight at Loras as she said, “He was trawling though the Alliance online systems for information.”

“Did he find anything?”

“He found your personal log.”

Loras flushed bright red.

“He looked though all the crew’s logs. He seemed to find them very interesting,” she added, as this seemed to make some of the individuals present look most uncomfortable.

Cuy looked like a stick had been shoved up his arse and wiggled about. “Those systems are supposed to be third-level secured,” Cuy said.

_What had he recorded there that had left him so shocked at the possibility they had been seen by unauthorised personnel?_

“Well, it would appear they are not so secure that a Westerland pirate cannot compromise their integrity in seconds.” Brienne could feel a muscle working in her jaw as she fought to control her temper.

It was not only the stupidity of her subordinates that had been driving her mad recently, but her libido. For years it had conveniently remained an obedient and docile beast, but now seemed to have suddenly roared into life with the help of one complete and utter space waster and now it was as if everywhere Brienne looked she was searching for that particular set of broad shoulders, a shit eating grin or shock of golden hair. Even thinking about the damn man started a slow burn of desire from deep inside her pelvis that lingered like an annoying itch she could not scratch.

“Captain Tarth... Brienne—a word now that we are in private.” The meeting had finished and Brienne was pulled back from her musings by Renly’s soft tone. “ Brienne, your subordinates have expressed some concern over your current disposition. Loras also says you seem very distracted and Cuy has agreed.”

“Cuy does not always appreciate the difficulties of command, Sir.”

And Loras was also always looking for opportunities to undermine her. He was as ambitious as Cuy, socially intelligent yet with a low animal cunning that could make him far more dangerous.

_And of course he was so fiercely possessive where Renly was concerned._

“I have always been more than happy that your father allowed you to come and join us, and you have done well. You are everything he promised and more, much more. But you know we live in difficult times, my eldest brother's death has changed much. Stannis has already challenged my right to deploy a representative share of Alliance forces, and the fact remains that Loras also has certain... reservations,” Brienne shut her eyes briefly, she knew what was coming next, “so I think it wise to take the precaution of relieving you from duty for a set period long enough for you to be assessed for your fitness for command.”

“Why?”

“Loras is concerned that your decisions are becoming increasingly erratic.”

“Based on Cuy's word? Your Grace, Cuy is an unscrupulous opportunist who serves only himself.”

“Loras agrees with Cuy that you made a faulty judgement with regard to the capture of the private trade vessel. Cuy says he constantly has to question your interpretation of Alliance directives.”

Brienne’s gut lurched.

Okay, that could prove risky, if Renly or Loras started looking at what actually went on when she captured ships.

“Cuy is not a particularly flexible individual with regard to due process, Your Grace. Border space needs more creative solutions than either Cuy or Loras are prepared to undertake.” Renly was not listening. Brienne could tell by the way he dropped his gaze and shuffled his papers.

“The Alliance psychs say you need to return for assessment.”

Right, of course they did. People did that and never returned to space again.

It was a conspiracy. Brienne could sense it and she knew however much she argued she was not going to win this particular fight. Psych assessment was the only way to displace someone who carried the Tarth family name from a position of responsibility. Loras and Cuy must have joined an unprecedented alliance to make a strong case.

“Also, the Westerlander representatives, as well as Casterley Rock, are demanding a full enquiry into the entire incident involving the interrogation of the prisoners and your role in it. They are calling for your arrest.”

Brienne sat back in her chair, surprised at the news that one of the most prominent controlling bodies of the Westerlands seemed to be determined on collecting her head.

“Since when did the _Lannisters_ instruct the Alliance on disciplining their officers?” she asked.

“They do not.”

Brienne begged to differ but thought it more prudent to simply purse her lips and keep quiet on that point, so turned her attention back to her own predicament.

“This is not a matter of me returning for a command assessment at all, is it? I am being asked to return for the sake of diplomatic relations with the Westerland territories, for some supposed benefit of not challenging the Lannisters or their collective, directly. These are the same territories that hide pirates and encourage incursions into the space that we are supposed to protect. These territories back political insurgents with major firepower in areas of space too vast for the Alliance fleet to cover adequately. It’s a calculated campaign to erode the colonised galaxies that you’re pledged to protect, Your Grace. Make no mistake—I will fight this decision... I _will_ fight this decision.”

Renly simply ignored her comments and said, “Loras will take command of your craft with Cuy as Captain. My decision on this is final, and I would appreciate it if you completed your handover as quickly and as smoothly as possible.”

_Grounded._

She was grounded, all the hours of painstaking analysis, all the time spent doing the best job she could counted for nothing.

_Nothing._

“I would like it a matter of record, Your Grace, that I think you are making a serious mistake. That was no Lannister diplomatic barge and Loras and Cuy are…”

“Your comment is noted. Good day, Captain Tarth.”

Aware of her temper rising hot as she continued to argue with Renly, Brienne shut her mouth abruptly and left the room without another word. She had not made the rank of captain in such a short time without realising when it was time to walk away from a fight. If the Westerland diplomatic groups were calling for her arrest, it was most likely that their next step would be to attempt to extradite her to Kings Landing for trial. They were most tenacious when it came to making an example of those Alliance personnel who they felt had transgressed against them and her gender and relative youth had made her a well-known figure in the Alliance command structure.

In doing her job as she saw fit, she had just crossed the line with people who would think nothing of getting her busted down to sub atomic level, if they did not get their hands on her first.

It was a long walk back to her cabin. For a woman who had spent almost her entire adult life living on her wits in deep space, she had an instinct for trouble and when she was about to walk into a trap.

  
Brienne really did not want to be stuck on an administrative hub when a sixth sense was telling her she was being lined up as a sacrificial diplomatic concession to the whims of Westerland politics. She had no intention of ending her days on a remote Westerland stockade planet because she had been stupid enough not keep a closer eye on the wily Loras and, it would seem now, the even more cunning Cuy.

  
_I’m a fighter and a Tarth. It’s not going to happen,_ Brienne told herself, _I'm going to fight it._

The question was, how?

_I need to see Renly in person, to convince him and make him understand._

She could do nothing else.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Brienne arrives at Port Storms-E ready to argue her case and runs into trouble.  
> Big trouble.  
> Banner by Ro Nordmann  
> 
> 
>   

Brienne's ship arrived at Port Storms-E within three days of her being relieved of command, and no sooner had they arrived than a diplomatic party from the Lannister System Fleet had also materialized within close proximity to the space station. The larger, sleeker battle class cruisers were allowed to manoeuvre without hindrance around the port’s docks and that of her own craft, or rather now, Cuy's.

Brienne watched their jockeying with no little interest.

_The bloody Lannisters were everywhere._

If she was Cuy or Loras or even her old self, she’d be feeling pretty anxious, but Loras had no fear and Cuy no brain and she was not her old self anymore.

She was now simply Brienne of Tarth, the Beast of Tarth or maybe occasionally, The Maid of Tarth.

The Lannister ships had done nothing more than dock at Port Storms-E but such was their size and firepower that alarms were sounding for Stormlands personnel to return to their stations long before they had even made port.

What they were doing there, Brienne had no idea.

 _What foolhardy idiot takes a powerful fleet of ships into the jaw of their enemy just as real hostilities are about to break out?_   She wondered.

Port Storms-E was an unprepossessing hub on the edge of Stormlands Alliance space with a couple of fairly average bars and a busy dispatch rate from its warehouse stations. Its population consisted of a few shifty individuals, the workforce supplemented by synthetic programmable lifeforms known as synths. They had few weapons of note and Brienne was pretty sure that from what she had seen the pride of the Lannister fleet would make short work of her new place of residence and any Alliance ships present within a few minutes should they wish to do so.

Brienne had paid only cursory attention to this unusual threat on her way to where her commander was quartered. She was far more interested in getting an audience with Renly and reversing his decision regarding her demotion.

But the interview did not go at all well.

  
_"I have made my decision Lady Brienne. I now expect you to abide by it."_

It was not helped by the fact that Catelyn Stark, the mother of Robb Stark, self appointed ruler of the northern sector, had arrived during Brienne's awkward conversation with Renly regarding her demotion.

Brienne could have pulled her hair out with frustration at the interruption.

Lady Catelyn was obviously annoyed at finding Brienne's in the room, but it was soon clear that she had pursued her interview with Renly in an attempt to persuade him to throw his lot in with the rebellious Stark family collective, and wanted as few witnesses as possible when she did so.

_It didn't take a genius to work out that Renly felt that her own interview with him was at an end._

Fuming but courteous, Brienne had stepped back as Renly had motioned frantically at Lady Catelyn to approach.

"Lady Brienne of Tarth, Lady Catelyn," Renly told her, "one of my elite fighters within the Stormlands Alliance."

"I know who Lady Brienne is," Lady Catelyn replied tightly.

Catelyn Stark turned briefly to look her up and down, but her expression was hardly warm, her upper lip going as far as to curl slightly.

 _All she sees in an ugly mannish woman,_ Brienne reminded herself, _and someone who could possibly be fighting on the opposite side to her son._

Brienne gave a brief nod in return, keeping her face impassive.

"Back to see me so soon, Lady Catelyn?" Renly remarked, a charming smile on his face, "You know people will talk."

"Your Grace, surely the wisdom of combining forces with my son now... before any confrontation with your brother..." Catelyn Stark was so desperate to get her point across to Renly she had turned her back on Brienne no sooner had she been introduced to her.

Brienne simply stared straight ahead, ignoring the snub.

"My brother is convinced that he is the one true representative of House Baratheon," Renly pointed out reasonably, "indeed it was your own husband who convinced him."

Catelyn Stark made an impatient noise at this and scowled, "that sounds like an excuse and you know it," she told him curtly, her tone one of someone who was most unimpressed.

Brienne shifted from one foot to the other, desperate for the Stark woman to be gone so she could continue her appeal to Renly regarding his decision to have her grounded.

She was so focused on getting his attention she barely noticed the synthform enter Renly's cabin.

"Ah, at last, my robe," Renly broke across Catelyn's impassioned plea on behalf of her son, turning instead to accept the cloth from the creature.

It was only as Brienne looked at the synthform properly for the first time, that the dull thud of recognition hit her.

_A joke, it had to be a joke! Was Renly's synthform deliberately made to look like Stannis because Renly liked the idea of his elder brother undertaking the most mundane of tasks in his service?_

Puzzled, Brienne glanced at Renly, and in doing so almost missed it.

Almost missed the synth raise its hand where a blade was briefly lit with a deadly flash of light.

 _Knife!_  
                                                                                                         * * * *

Brienne sprinted as fast as she could down the corridor, her lungs tight with emotion. Never would she forget the sight of the synth plunging the knife deep into Renly's back, red liquid bleeding out across the cabin floor.

Renly's lifeblood had spread and pooled in front of Lady Catelyn as she stared down at the dying man, horrified.

_A living nightmare._

But the synth was not finished.

_The knife flashed again._

Brienne had thrown herself in front of the synth as it went to strike again, and again, catching at its insanely strong arms with her hands, using all her strength and a bit more to flip it onto the floor where it continued to plunge its blood soaked blade into thin air.

_Renly!_

"Renly?" Brienne had turned frantically to find him.

"Renly's....," the woman's appalled expression as she stared at Brienne, then at Renly's slumped form, was frozen in place.

"No," Brienne croaked, her throat suddenly dry as she scrambled across to check Renly's body, "no, he can't be dead!"

But the sight before her could not be denied. Renly's back was a mess, the aim of the mechanoid true as he had plunged the blade deep into bone and flesh.

_He can't die... we have a war to fight... to win._

_No,_ her breath started to come in choppy short gasps. _No_

"He's dead Brienne," Catelyn Stark insisted, "I'm so sorry...".

It was Brienne's furious howl of denial that had brought the guards running to the scene, banging on the shut door to get in. It was only Lady Stark's desperate call to her own ship, and an emergency override to a low secure door to the rear of the facility that meant they were both able to escape into a service corridor, and run.

And run.

 _Dead! Renly's dead!_ Was all she could process in her mind as she went.

_Dead. Dead. Dead._

Brienne ran flat out down the service corridor before skidding round a tight corner to make for the ships at the dockside, Catelyn Stark close behind her.

She slid to a halt as she arrived at the tunnel to where her ship was docked.

"Come with me Brienne," Catelyn Stark urged her as she finally caught up with Brienne at the intersection, sucking in lungfuls of stale reprocessed air, " Its not safe for you here now. Come with me, and I'll guarantee you safe passage back to the Tarth system."

Brienne paused briefly, but her mind was already made up.

_I can't... my ship!_

She shook her head, aware she was clinging to the idea of her duty with a dogged tenacity.

 _Its the only thing I have left._  

"You are not safe here Brienne, you saw what happened." Catelyn urged her, "They won't want a witness... you must come with me!"

It felt like a trap, the whole of Port Storms-E felt like a trap yet Brienne knew that it was imperative that she should warn her crew.

"Please, come with me Brienne."

_For all I know Catelyn Stark's offer is a trap._

"I can't," she gasped, "I have to warn... I have to tell them, my crew. They need to know."

Inside she felt, nothing. She was numb, but her head was telling her she had to do her duty. 

_I have to warn Loras. It's the least I can do._

_Loras, who had no idea... yet._

Catelyn Stark looked at Brienne, looked at her with a hard assessing stare, and then gave a sad smile, " Then I wish you luck Brienne. You'll need it."

With that and an abrupt nod in Brienne's direction, the Stark woman promptly disappeared into the adjacent tunnel.

Brienne's luck, however, appeared to have gone awry as soon as she left Lady Stark.

The sight that met her eyes as she reached the dockside was not good.

There were Stormlands Alliance troopers stationed all around her old ship.

_Her ex-ship._

Stormland troopers bearing the colours and the flaming stag's head sigil of Stannis Baratheon.

The memory of the synth bearing the grotesque facsimile of Stannis Baratheon's face as it stabbed Renly to death, briefly flashed through Brienne's memory.

 _You wanted him to know it was you,_ Brienne realised _, you wanted him to know that it was you, Stannis, that killed him._

_I have to get off Storms-E, I have to get away from this place and back into space._

She stared at the guards, wondering if there was another way for her to get off the station.

Brienne released a long shuddering sigh of indecision.

“Tough not having a ship, isn’t?” An all too familiar voice behind her made Brienne spin round in a blind panic, banging her head against the wall of the corridor as a consequence.

Momentarily stunned, she blinked and it was only as her sight cleared that she was able to take in a small but deadly squad of troops.

“Shit!” Brienne felt the blood drain from her face as she absorbed the implication of the scene before her.

Jaime Lannister himself stood with a group of ten armed soldiers who she knew for certain could not be Stormlands Alliance. He was armed and dressed for fighting, as were the soldiers, in the distinctive Lannister family colours of red and gold. They were most definitely descendants of the genetically engineered inhabitants of the Westerlands standing at least half a head taller than any of the Stormlands Alliance troops. They must have boarded Port Storms-E from the Lannister fleet even as she had been watching the ships earlier.

“What the hell are you doing here?”

_Attack was the best form of defence, right?_

Brienne forced her breathing to slow, made her voice lower, trying not to show how panicked she was. “Still a ship down, Jaime? Having to take on contract work? Working in a snatch squad must be a bit of a comedown.”

Jaime Lannister's green gaze narrowed, his beautiful features twisting into a scowl as he registered her words.

"Being grounded seems to have loosened your tongue, Captain... oh sorry, no, its just _plain_ Brienne now isn't it?"

He'd managed to put enough sneering emphasis on 'plain' to make it sound like 'hideously ugly'.

"Fuck you, Lannister," was all she could think of to say. Raw panic and shock enough to make any store of witticisms she might pretend to have available to her, dry up.

"Your promises," his scowl relaxed slightly to allow a slight grin through, "lack substance, wench."

 _He's one incredibly annoying bastard,_ Brienne fumed, her anger at him a welcome distraction from the horror of Renly's demise.

Ser Jaime Lannister seemed to know exactly what would make her temper instantly spike.

_And would gleefully use it._

"Brienne," she seethed, "My name is..."

“Bring her.” Jaime indicated that the guards should take Brienne with a jerk of his head, his jaw tight.

A guard seized Brienne at Jaime’s command. Brienne spun round and knocked his hands off her in a reflex action, back straight, her face flushed red, indignant, her stupid inappropriate hormones suddenly in overdrive at Jaime’s unexpected appearance.

“Who in the seven hells are you to take me anywhere? I’m on a space station that is well within Stormlands Alliance protected territory!”

“I’m here to arrest you.”

“You have no jurisdiction here.”

“I have appropriate clearance from the Storms-E authorities to remove you.”

“But I am not subject to the Storms-E authorities. I am still a Stormlands Alliance officer and.....”

 _And what? Now that Renly was dead, murdered._  Brienne had no words to finish.

“You are a Stormlands Alliance officer without a ship,” Jaime pointed out a little too reasonably, indicating the obviously restless guards standing on the dock by her ship who had yet to see her.

"I went to see Renly," she replied through gritted teeth.

 _Dead Renly,_ her conscience mocked her.

Brienne clenched her teeth to stop them chatterring.

"Ah, yes, His Grace Renly Baratheon,"Jaime’s response was to cast a withering look. “Was Renly receptive then?”

“I don't want to discuss it". Brienne hissed angrily and smacked away the hands of her captor. “I haven't got time for this. Because of you, I’ve lost my ship.”

Jaime ran a hand through his shock of golden blond hair, making it stand on end slightly, his expression deadly serious as he studied her face, her body.

She had blood on her hands, her clothes.

_Have you seen it yet?_

It made her nervous, panicked.

_Was that what he was looking for - or had he already seen it?_

_I'll double back and find Catelyn Stark._

Why would her hands not stop shaking?

_A Stark trap had to be better than a Lannister one._

She might even be able to get a message to Loras to get the ship out of dock, out of Port Storms-E before the troops loyal to Stannis managed to board.

“Its something of a coincidence don't you think, both of us not having a ship anymore?” murmured Jaime, studying her face with a curiously intent expression on his own, “always nice to have things in common, isn't it?”

Brienne threw a seething glance at Jaime, who stared back with his mesmerising green gaze. “You know you need to let me go... It really is a matter of life and death. You have no idea!”


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Brienne attempts to leave Port Storms-E  
> Banner by Ro Nordmann  
> 
> 
>   

A terrified yet furious Brienne was marched along the corridors of Port Storms-E, surrounded by the tall intimidating figures of the armed Lannister escort.

But she kept her chin up, her face impassive.

_Don't give the game away._

People stared at her as if she was part of a freak show as she passed, no one dared question her progress and only one of the Stormland troopers stationed by her old vessel had been brave enough to challenge the Lannister force as they moved towards the exit docks.

“We are under instruction to prevent the escape or removal of Brienne Tarth from the station,” he informed them as additional troopers from the Stormlands took up their positions behind him.

“Brienne of Tarth is under arrest,” Jaime stated in a tone that brooked no argument, moving to walk past the armed man as if he was not there. The trooper clicked his firearm into the ready position and went to step back into the path of Brienne’s captor, but his way was blocked by one of the Lannister guards.

“Don’t you know who this is? This is the Kingslayer.” He moved closer to tower over the Stormlands trooper. “Ser Jaime Lannister. He has more diplomatic clearance than you could possibly imagine. Do yourself a favour and let him through, soldier.”

“He could be the head of Viserys for all I care, and you Lannisters may have all the clearance you think you need and more, but the fact remains we have orders not to let Brienne Tarth off Port Storms-E.”

“She is under my jurisdiction,” Jaime Lannister told him curtly, “for confining an individual with diplomatic immunity as specified by the Stormlands agreement with the Westerland confederation. Are you about to be the man that makes the same mistake?”

Brienne barely recognised Jaime, his expression was cold autocratic, his eyes like slithers of green ice.

He looked terrifying, golden, dangerous, made worse by his soft menacing tone as he went on to say, "If you are... hurry up and try."

There was a moments hesitation as the guard looked at the Kingslayer, as Jaime stood in a deceptively open stance, his hands relaxed at the side of his body.  
Ready to seize the knife Brienne had seen tucked into the back of his Lannister red breeches.

The trooper finally shook his head.

Jaime looked at the others present and shook his head slightly before releasing a brief puff of air.

“Any other questions, soldier?” 

The man shook his head again.

“Then get out of my way.”

The troops melted away and Brienne was tugged forward again. She stumbled slightly and found herself caught under the arm by the Kingslayer.  
She glanced down at where his hand had seized her bloody sleeve and saw the Stormland's fighter frown as he noticed the blood there.

"I need to check..," the man started to raise an objection.

"No you don't," Jaime told him dismissively as he hauled Brienne past the assembled troops.

"I can walk," she snapped.

"Of course you can,” he smiled a grim smile at her as he continued to lead her through the last of the station corridors. “Don’t look so unhappy, Brienne. You should be very grateful—you could have been arrested by the new head of the Stormland Alliance. Although apparently he’s not as bad as the old one is reputed to have been.”

_He knew what had happened._

_How could he know?_

_How did Jaime Lannister know?_

“I wouldn't give you the satisfaction,” was all Brienne could manage, her expression fixed as a very real dread started to rise inside her and she stumbled in Jaime's wake.

There was no way that Loras or indeed anyone within the Stormlands Alliance was going to stop them taking her. Her father would be powerless to act against Stannis, his new liege lord.

_I can only pray he disowns me to protect himself._

Despite Westerland and Stormland differences, to do anything to a genuine confederation diplomat that contravened the tenuously upheld confederation treaty was a career buster. She shook her head in an effort to get her thoughts straight and when she did, Brienne could barely suppress a grimace of despair. She’d taken prisoner, stolen data from and attempted to blackmail a member of the Lannister family, the leading clan amongst the outer Westerland ruling class. 

_But not just any Lannister._

_The heir himself, the lion apparent._

No wonder then that Loras had surrendered her without protest; little surprise that the Alliance top brass had suggested Renly relieve her from duty as soon as possible. She’d made Ser Jaime Lannister, strip and apparently surrender himself in exchange for his crew. If nothing else, she was a walking target. The Lannister reputation for fast, brutal retribution in the face of transgressions against them was well known.

_She was truly on her own._

“This way,” Brienne was led through a docking bay, into an even bigger group of armed soldiers and the middle of what looked like a diplomatic incident.

The bay was full of Stormland Alliance troops.

Loras was there.

And Stannis.

She pulled angrily at Jaime Lannister’s grip on her arm, reluctant to appear at a disadvantage in front of the people assembled within. Loras' complexion was pale, his expression grim and that of a man about to kill someone.

_And it didn't look like it was Stannis._

“Don’t struggle, you might hurt yourself,” Jaime hissed to her, adjusting his grip as though he thought she might be stupid enough to make a run for it.

Loras, Stannis and what looked like Stannis' elite guard stood silently by, but Brienne seriously doubted it was to witness her departure in the hands of a Lannister.

"Hand her over," Loras' eyes were bloodshot, he looked like a man for whom the world had just ended, "hand her over... she killed him. She killed Renly..."

"No, I-" Brienne went to reach out to her former comrade, but Jaime pulled her back and into his side with a sharp tug.

"I demand justice," Loras seethed.

Jaime squeezed her arm, hard enough to bruise, as he emphasised his point that she shouldn't speak.

Her former Stormland Alliance comrades stood regarding her, to a man, loathing in their eyes.

Fighting to swallow the lump in her throat and to hold in her tears, Brienne raised her chin and stared down anyone rash enough to look at her. She glared with particular venom at Stannis, the architect of her irrevocable disgrace, just so he would know she was nowhere near discouraged or beaten by the recent turn of events.

 _I know what you did,_ she tried to tell him with a look.

_I. Know. What. You. Did._

Stannis gave her a desultory look and moved his attention to Loras.

"Brienne of Tarth," Loras took a deep seething breath, "You deserve to die."

Brienne drew a deep breath to answer him but instead gasped as Jaime slid his hand around her wrist in a bone crushing grip.

"What will you do with her, Ser Jaime?" Stannis had regarded the emotional Loras with a shuttered expression on his face, his hands clasped behind his back, "I could demand that you hand her over to me, her crimes are beyond forgiveness and she should be held accountable for them."

"You could," Ser Jaime Lannister smiled a long slow smile. “ but you won't. Given the Lannister firepower currently targeted on your ships, and this station, that would make you a very stupid man and I have never considered you to be stupid, Stannis,” he said.

Stannis was silent, holding Jaime's gaze for a few moments, the merest ghost of a smile hovering on his lips as he did so.

No one said a word until a sob broke from Loras of all people. “Why did you do it Brienne?” he asked hoarsely, the anguish and betrayal in his voice echoing about the dock as he spoke, "Why did you have to kill Renly? For the love of the seven, why?"

"I didn't do it," Brienne blurted out the words before Jaime could react, "I didn't do it - I didn't kill him!"


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jaime and Brienne get away from Storms-E  
> Banner by Ro Nordmann  
> 
> 
>   
>    
> 

Even to Brienne's sadly untutored eye it was clear that the interior of the Lannister battle cruiser was richly decorated, yet beautifully designed, down to the last bolt. In her Port Storms-E overalls Brienne felt oddly overdressed compared to the red clad operatives she passed as she was hustled through the ship.

It could have been worse—she could have been brought aboard in her Stormland Alliance dress uniform with its black ornately embroidered jacket, gold braid, stag buttons and breeches over trimmed with metallic ribbon.

It had always made her look utterly ridiculous.

_It was... had been... Renly's own design._

Swallowing, Brienne glanced down at her hands, checking to see if they had stopped shaking.

A faint tremor was still visible.

 _So not quite yet._ She rubbed them vigorously on her thighs, hoping an increase of blood to her fingers would stop the tremors.

 _I've been in worst fixes than this,_  she told herself,  _what_ _is the worst thing he can do?_

_He, being 'Lannister'._

_Jaime fucking Lannister._

Brienne looked around herself as she was guided into what looked like a guest's quarters.

“Stay here.” Her escort left her without another word, the door shutting behind him with an ominous clunk. Brienne scanned the door. The only means of exit possible appeared to be the same door she entered through with the guard. There were exposed door controls to try and manipulate or break open, although there was a panel

_Stay here?_

What else could she do?

_She was a prisoner._

“Damn!” With an angry sigh Brienne clenched her fist and wondered how far she would get if she kicked out the control panel with her boot.

“So…”

Brienne jumped, spinning on her heel to meet Jaime Lannister’s speculative gaze, he studied the door controls carefully before looking back into her face. “Enjoying your new accommodation, wench?” Brienne’s breath halted abruptly at his sudden appearance, only to return shallow and fast as she reminded herself to breathe. She stood so still she could feel the muscles in her legs twitch in response to the enforced stillness. “Welcome to the battle cruiser Honour.” Jaime’s voice was deep and smooth, far more relaxed it would appear now he was on his own territory.

He sounded satisfied.

_Maybe a little smug._

Brienne managed a tight nod and wondered if his fellow ‘free trader’ Daven was on board the Honour as well.

“Daven said to say hello,” Brienne thought it might be prudent to be careful what she thought about in future. She was pretty sure he was no minder reader, so she could only assume she needed to work harder at controlling her expression.

He gave a small smile, “Refreshment? You must be thirsty after all the excitement of leaving Storms-E.”

His impeccable manners seemed incongruous in the wake of their terrifying exit.

“Ah, no… thank you.” Brienne kept her chin up and tried to keep her tone as businesslike as possible. Make him think that the run of the days awful events was more the norm for her than it actually was.

She held his gaze, chin up, unblinking.

He looked straight back at her, green eyes narrowed slightly.

"Why am I here?" she asked him.

“Take off the overalls, Brienne.” His voice was soft, but commanding.

"Why?"

"Why do you think?" Jaime responded, going on to say, " Your Alliance isn't the only one that likes to hold onto its secrets."

He pulled the blood covered clothes from her arms as she stepped out of them, then seized the standard white issue shirt she wore underneath and removed it by pulling it over her head. Brienne was left standing in her support vest, basic issue briefs and boots. He squashed the ruined clothes and shirt thoroughly between his large capable hands.

“No listening devices there then.” He smiled the briefest of smiles, his green eyes bright and predatory. “Now off with the rest of it.”

Brienne hesitated, uncertain. “You mean my boots?” There was, after all, precious else left of her outermost clothing. Jaime frowned.

“No.” He leant forward and removed her support vest with a flick of his wrists.

  
“Hey!” Brienne’s vest shot from around her ribs with a speed that had her clutching at the exposed freckled flesh of her chest with panicked hands. She was a girl in possession of smaller than average breasts, her large hands covering them easily as a flush travelled from behind her hands, up her neck and over her face, "this is not appropriate!" She snarled at him.

"Appropriate?" He frowned briefly, but did not seen unduly concerned at her reaction, "I thought you understood all about fabrics and integrated bugging devices. One can never be too careful..."

"Why are you doing this ?" Brienne spat, "Why did you come for me?"

_Why did you save my life?_

She couldn't ask him that, and she wouldn't believe anything he said anyway. Jaime Lannister may have just saved her life but that didn't mean she trusted him.

“Bend over.”

“Bend over?” Her reply was disbelieving. She could feel her expression becoming more incredulous by the minute, but Jaime remained undeterred. “Bend over, Brienne.”

She actually knew what he was doing and why. He was checking for the chips and plastic patches that would indicate bugs or listening devices, running his fingers through her short scrubby hair and across her flushed, freckled skin.

“Ouch,” She tried to twist away from his fingers as her hair fell in ratty locks about her face. “Why in the seven hells would I put anything in my hair! Do I look like the kind of person who puts ribbons and beads in her...ugh!”

He pushed her head down firmly and continued combing her hair through his fingers. “I’m clean, you idiot.”

Her protests were muffled by her hair and hands as she smacked his hands away from her ill-kempt locks. “I have not been bugged.”

“Of course not, but in the same position would you not check me just as thoroughly?” Jaime pulled her upright and held her face in his hands. “Oh, hang on...actually, you did. Alliance protocol seemed to indicate completely naked.... completely and utterly naked. Very cautious....and probably most wise.”

With that his hands slid down her ribcage and forcefully into her sensible Stormland briefs, only to rip them effortlessly in two to remove them. Brienne’s intake of breath at the violence of his action rang loud in the room. She swallowed hard, reminding herself she was a decorated officer of one of the most formidable fleets in the known galaxy. She had taken him prisoner first in this game.

“What is it you want?” she asked of him, her voice tight. Jaime Lannister stared straight back at her after having thrown her clothing into a container that was no doubt bug proof.

“Several things. The public one of which is to set an example,” he smiled briefly, "and now that we are alone... information. You see, I think that you are probably quite good at getting hold of the information you want, aren't you Brienne of Tarth?"

So that was why he had pursued her with such a unerring purpose.

"My ships systems have all the code I use..."

His grin spread even wider, "No, no Brienne... that's not how this works. You are supposed to convince me of just how critical you are to my future plans... not make it clear that I should dump you out of an airlock as soon as possible."

“Of course.” Brienne bit the inside of her cheek to stop herself saying another word. It had been her own methods that had led to this, even if she had been trying to help both them and herself. “Look, my family has some influence…”

"The Tarth family connections are a long way away, and can do little to help you now. If your father is wise he'll be doing everything and more to disown you even as we speak. Stannis has a habit of burning people who disagree with him.”

"He has them executed... By steel??"

"No, he has them burnt. Properly oxidized... in full view of a usually very unappreciative audience," Jaime seemed very matter of fact about a barbaric practice, "until not one scrap of them is left, apparently."

Whatever he wanted her for, Jaime Lannister had at least saved her from that.

“Am I to be tried by the Lannister's for breaking the confederation treaty then?”

His laugh was short, brief and almost amused. “Not today, Brienne, and probably not tomorrow. Contrary to popular belief, we Lannister's are not above the law -”

_In the Westerlands they were._

"-unless of course there is a war. The Starks are apparently... restless."

But the implication was that she would be, eventually.

_It was interesting that he had mentioned the Starks. Was it Robb Stark who had the information he wanted?_

Brienne’s emotions spiralled and gave a tiny dead cat bounce as they hit bottom. “As a prisoner, I have rights you know.”

More correctly, as a Stormland Alliance Officer she had rights, but at the moment her status seemed confused. If they were at war, then she would already be at a considerable disadvantage.

_And Stannis and Jaime Lannister most definitely had not looked like they were on the same side back on Storms-E._

Officially, the word was that Tywin Lannister had a firm hold on the entire region, he held Kings Landing and his grandson was Robert Baratheon's heir.

_Rumour told a slightly different story._

Jaime Lannister moved a step closer and simply stared at her.

“Do you?”

 _Seven hells,_ was all Brienne could think as she stared straight at him. She could feel the prickling, burning course of another blush start from her chest and sweep up over her face. She tucked her hands tightly under her armpits and scowled at his apparent ignorance.

"Well of course I do, there are treaties...and..."

Those long ambitious years in the Stormlands Alliance Fleet had simply not equipped her for standing naked in front of one of the most handsome and unsettling men she had ever encountered.

He grinned.

A wide confident grin that made his lean cheeks dimple and his green eyes flash.

Brienne swallowed desperately.

Jaime reached his hands over his head and pulled off his black shirt, leaving him clad only in breeches and boots. He shucked the boots off, then calmly dropped his breeches. He was lean, golden and naked. “Come here, Brienne.”

He smiled enticingly and held out his hand.


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Don't mess with Jaime Lannister, he will get you back...  
> Banner by Ro Nordmann  
> 
> 
>   
>    
> 

As Brienne sat on the floor watching Jaime shower, she kept reminding herself that ‘the outer Westerland societies were fundamentally different to those of the Stormlands worlds’. She shut her eyes briefly, only to open them again to the same image as before.

_‘They are a race based on a different set of principles, brought about by a different set of rules. Their personal habits were always going to be unusual.’_

Jaime had entered the shower shortly after he had sat her in the corner, her hands cuffed. He seemed to be able to totally ignore her presence as he showered himself.

_Well, almost._

Brienne had watched wide-eyed as Jaime soaped his body, lathering his arms and thighs before soaping down his shoulders and torso. She rested her back against the wall of the wet room, mesmerised by the action before her, her recently confined wrists resting on her knees. She had folded her legs in front of her, hiding as much of her naked body as she could.

It would appear that her gaoler had been astute enough to work out what would happen to the door controls should he be stupid enough to leave her unattended in the adjacent room, even without her boots on.

 _More fool me for making it so obvious,_ Brienne fumed to herself.

Though where she would go if she managed to escape his rooms, she had no idea.

Brienne had cultivated the illusion of being a professional voyeur on her own ship, but had yet to realise its full implications until now, when faced with a man who was tall, muscular and quite breathtakingly beautiful involved in the strangely mesmerizing practice of washing himself from head to toe. She'd lived in close proximity to any number of men in far more basic conditions than this.

_Yet watching this particular man showering himself was oddly... distracting._

Brienne took a deep breath.

Stories within the colonised worlds told of ships of genetically altered humans being sent to colonise the worlds of the outer Westerland with little expectation of survival almost a millennia ago. But they had survived, and then some. Like an ungrateful child turning its back on a parent, the outer Westerland worlds had declared their independence and had fought a short but decisive war to enforce it.

The Lannister Fleet had been established to protect the inner Westerland worlds from any threat from their old neighbours and also to ensure no other worlds within the Westerland sectors had any ideas about establishing independent states or joining the other Westerosi worlds in their defiance. It meant they didn’t necessarily mix much. But Tywins greatest triumph had been the political manoevring that had enabled him to marry his daughter Cersei to Robert Baratheon and so put his own collective at the heart of the Westerosi government.

The Stormlands had been quick to form their own considerable force once Robert Baratheon had died. Its weakness had been the difference of opinion that had erupted between Stannis and Renly as to who should take the responsibility of rule once the Baratheon succession was settled.

“Brienne ,” Brienne was brought back from her reverie by a Jaime's voice, “come here.”

“No,” she replied, her upbringing compelling her to add, “Thank you. I’m a little,” She raised her hands locked in their restraints. “tied up.”

Jaime laughed, he seemed genuinely amused at her response.

“Oh come on, you need to wash. You look very…”

Brienne frowned and looked down at her bound hands.

“Captive?” she asked him crossly.

“Dirty,” Jaime corrected her, his tone all innocence, "and sweaty and maybe a bit...bloody."

Brienne simply rolled her eyes and shuddered.

_Don't remind me._

"No."

“Brienne, join me. You need to wash.”

“I’m a prisoner,” she protested, determined to resist the lure of pleasing him. “We are very reluctant to do as our gaolers wish and we often smell. Get used to it.”

“You smell of Storms-E,” Jaime told her from under the powerful jet of water. The Stormland’s insistence on sonic showers meant that a water shower like this one was a rare luxury.

Brienne simply shook her head and looked away until two firm hands seized her beneath the arms, pulled her to her feet and dragged her into the water. Brienne was not even allowed to hover momentarily at the peripheral of the steamy cascade before the compelling hands pulled her directly into the blinding fall of hot water. Brienne’s senses were swamped in a rush of intoxicating sensations as she spluttered—the water, the smell of clean male skin, soap, as well as the not-so-pleasant smell of herself now she had other smells to contrast herself with.

“Come here.”

Brienne spluttered in Jaime's face as soapy hands, turned her and lifted her arms with her confined wrists up onto her head. The same hands were then gliding over her skin, her body, from the tips of her tatty hair, right down to the very ends of her fingers and toes.

“Do you like this, Brienne?” Jaime whispered gently in her ear, his hands moving up to slide over her breasts, his fingers gliding onto her ribs, deliberately avoiding anything more than a tantalizing touch.

Brienne regarded him out of the corner of her eye and ran an inquiring index finger over her wrist cuffs.

_They were unfortunately quite secure._

“Maybe,”she gasped in reply twisting in his arms, more so as Lannister’s fingers caressed her toned stomach before moving on to soap her buttocks in long lingering strokes. His fingers pulling the globes gently apart, massaging, kneeding the muscles there. She could feel him pressed along the length of her, his cock hard against her solid flanks.

“Oh no,” Brienne spluttered, she self-consciously tried to lower her voice and sound more authoritative as she tried to wriggle her way round. “I don’t think…”

“Your problem is you think too much.” Lannister’s murmur merged with the noise of the shower as he moved her hands down. “You need to stop and feel more, Brienne.”

"How about this for stopping and feeling?" Brienne suddenly asked, having finally twisted round so she faced him.

With a burst of sudden strength, she dropped her bound arms over Jaime's head and caught him in a singular band of muscle and sinew. She pulled her arms tight, locking their soapy bodies together in a hot steamy embrace, face to face, her breasts crushed against his muscular chest, his erect cock digging into the relative softness of her abdomen.

"Fuck me!" Jaime started to laugh, his green eyes wide, his body convulsing with amusement within the confines of her arms and legs as he gave way to surprise and mirth, "you just don't give up do you?"

With a grimace of determination, Brienne tried to intimidate him with her size and strength, squeezing him tight enough to hurt, attempting to throw him to the floor, but he was as slippery as an eel and just kept laughing and laughing until he dropped to his knees, out of the circle of her arms.

And put his tongue to the juncture of her legs.

"What the... ?" Brienne could not stifle the gasping shriek of surprise that came from her throat. She used both hands to catch a painful handful of his glorious head of hair in her fist, pulling his head back until she was looking deep into his searing emerald green gaze.

“What are you doing?”

He raised one hand to his head and blindly sought out one of the cuffs, releasing it from one wrist with a swift twist.

“Offering a truce,” he told her, opening his eyes wider and unable to do anything other than blink as the shower hit his face, his golden hair darkened to bronze under the jets of water. She slowly released his hair and he went right back to what he was doing before, this time a little rougher, his lips and tongue more insistent, his hands running up her legs to hold her open to him.

Brienne’s fight had gone, her resistance non-existent. The sensations coursing through her body meant whatever reluctance she might have had simply dropped away. As Brienne rested her hands atop Jaime's head, she knew she was not in control of the situation—indeed, the restraint still dangled against Jaime's face from the other wrist as he spread her legs even further apart and licked her as she stood.

But as Brienne started to moan, water running over her face, she realised _that if you can't think, then you can't remember either._


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jaime has some interesting plans for Brienne's unique skills

Brienne sat on her bed in the cabin, staring at the ceiling, feeling as if she was on a countdown. A rendezvous with a Stark delegation was due in two days, and Jaime and herself were due to leave the Honour in one.

_And I have a really bad feeling about it._

As she had expected, Jaime hadn't secured her escape from Storms-E on a whim.

Jaime Lannister had come after her because she had a specific skill set he could use.

Finally, eventually, Jaime had told her exactly what he wanted her for. The subject of what had happened in the shower was neither discussed nor referred to, and Jaime seemed particularly keen to put them both back onto as formal a footing as possible.

 _Either because he's changed his mind now that he's seen me naked,_ Brienne acknowledged, furious with herself and with him, _or he wants something from me._

_It seemed to have been the latter, or at least that was the more comforting thought._

Realistically it was probably a combination of both.

Brienne was actually even more furious with herself _, somehow being unable to forget the feeling of Jaime's lips, his hands..._

 Occasionally she would catch Jaime Lannister staring at her shoulders, once he had seemed completely mesmerised by the size of _her hands_.

_Sometimes there really was a lot that could be said out about his manners, or lack of them._

 

"The Starks have my brother," he told her,"Do you know my brother? Short man, fair haired... sharp tongue?"

Brienne shook her head. She had never met Tyrion Lannister although she had heard a lot of talk about the strategic genius of the man they called "The Imp."  
_Now was not the time for the Lannisters to be missing his wit and cunning,_ she thought, _to say nothing of losing one of your best ideas people, just as conflict seemed imminent, being mighty careless._

"I need to know where they are keeping him," Jaime told her.

"Why?" Brienne asked him bluntly, although she was pretty sure she could guess.

"Because I intend to get him back," he replied promptly, "and you are going to tell me where he is, and what I need to do to make that happen."

 _No pressure then,_ Brienne thought angrily.

To achieve this end he had pursued her through every diplomatic channel available to him, and in the process had set in motion a sequence of events that had resulted in her having to flee Storms-E, the Alliance and abandon her father.

Jaime Lannister's loyalty to his brother did him credit, but had served her ill indeed.

"What's in it for me?" she asked him.

"Help me get my brother back and I'll get you back to Tarth," Jaime watched her reaction closely as he spoke, "or anywhere else you might want to go."

He had watched her reaction very closely, his handsome face intent on her own.

_Jaime Lannister treated people the same way she treated unfamiliar systems, as something to understand, and to ultimately manipulate._

And she was his latest puzzle.

Brienne had stared right back at him, not about to let him think for one moment he had the advantage of her, and whilst she did so the enormity of the task he was asking her to undertake suddenly hit her,"I don't know..."

"I want you to do to the Starks' ship's systems what you did to mine. The information will be in there somewhere, there will be logs, system access records. Analyse it, analyse it and tell me... it's what you do."

"But it's not the same," Brienne protested.

"What differences are there likely to be? " Jaime dismissed her objections with a savage swipe of his hand, "it's exactly the same as the kind of thing you were doing in the Reach."

That stung.

"Well if you are such an expert, you do it," she snapped by way of reply.

"I saved your life," he growled at her.

"After Lady Catelyn saved me from Renly's guards," Brienne burst out, flushing bright red when she realised exactly what she had said.

_The truth._

Lady Catelyn Stark had saved her life only to have Jaime Lannister use Brienne against her.

Jaime's green eyes, wildfire bright, scanned her entire face before he finally released a small laugh, "and that would have been a meaningless act if I had not saved you from Stannis. You owe me, Brienne."

"I wouldn't have even been in that position if it hadn't been for you," she told him.

"Semantics," Jaime brutally dismissed her point, " as a member of Renly's elite guard, just how long do you think you had before Stannis and his red witch came looking for you." He grinned suddenly, "there is a fuck of a lot of you to burn wench."

Brienne flushed red and resisted the urge to punch his smug Lannister face.

"I saved you from Stannis," Jaime reiterated, as if she was too slow to identify that as his point from his previous words "and now you are going to help me save my brother, or I will start to seriously think of what else I might use you for, " his narrowed gaze started at her feet and traced every part of her, lingering on the breadth of her shoulders, before looking her straight in the eye, "in order to justify your huge use of air."

Brienne had no idea what it was about her solid form that made his lip curl into a half smile.

"It's not that easy... my code is... is... on the servers back..." Brienne put a hand to her face, appalled at just how hot her cheeks were.

Jaime picked up her confiscated left boot by the heel and dangled it from one hand," You are the most fuck awful liar Tarth. Do me a favour, don't ever go into the diplomatic service."

_He's found it. Of course he has._

Brienne clenched her teeth and held her breath in a pathetic effort to not tell Jaime Lannister exactly what to do with himself.

Bloody Lannister had worked out the location of her backups of the backed up backups. It had been hidden within the sole of her boot.

_Bastard._

_So I never go anywhere without copies,_ Brienne glared at Jaime, appalled at how her pedantic organisation had backfired on her. She did indeed have exactly the tools necesary to give Jaime Lannister exactly what he wanted.

And to betray the woman who had saved her life in the process.

                                                                                *                        *                         *                                *

"Thought of anything to say to the delegation yet?” Jaime came into the room, blissfully unaware of how sexy he looked in a close-fitting dark shirt and military-fit trousers, his tight muscular backside clearly defined by the dark, stretchy material. "Or more importantly, have you had any thoughts about how we could access their systems?"

His blonde hair hung in tousled locks about his head, it looked like he had been sparring with Daven again. Brienne had already heard more about his ability with a knife than she ever truly wanted to know.

_The mighty golden Kingslayer, Jaime Lannister._

She thought a lot of his reputation had to do with people liking to praise a famous name, but having now spent more time than she could ever have wished to in his company, she was forced to admit he might actually be something of a force to be reckoned with.

_Maybe, damn him._

“I could ask you the same question,” Brienne shot back at him, holding out her bound wrist to him as he crossed the room to release her. She only had the one restraint now to stop her leaving the cabin, “as this was not my idea, if you had asked me, I could have told you what a stupid idea this was...”

"Its not an idea," Jaime told her, "its a plan."

Brienne snorted and rattled her wrist at him.

She was wearing his clothes, the only items she still had of her original clothing were her stupid boots.

Jaime merely grinned as he unlocked the cuff. “Brienne, you certainly know how to ruin a perfectly average day,” was his reply. He seemed more relaxed than usual, a little less on his guard, his green eyes twinkling.

 _By the seven, he was gorgeous, but too cocky,_ thought Brienne. He deserved a lesson and she deserved a little more respect.

Brienne turned away, rubbing her arm, her head bowed, pretending to be deep in contemplation of her large wrist joint, rubbed raw by the metal restraint, but then she doubled back, sprinting fast for the still open door. Jaime spun on his heel with a growl and launched himself after her, but it was too late. She was through the doorway and out into the corridor.

Oof!

Instantly she was not only the centre of attention for the two Lannister guards stood outside her door, but caught firmly from behind by Jaime. Brienne could only hiss with frustration as she was firmly turned about and walked back into the room by the Kingslayer.

She started to twist in his hands as she felt Jaime push her through the door, she landed an elbow in his ribs but when she attempted to stamp on his feet, his patience seemed at an end as he threw her flat on the floor in response to this new tactic.

Winded she stared up at him as he stared down, breathing heavily, his green eyes blazing but his amusement at her futile antics seemed laced by a somewhat darker sentiment on this occasion.

“Don't start Brienne, not unless you are ready to finish it,” Jaime warned, “and by _it,_ I mean everything.”

_Everything?_

The memory of the time Jaime spent aboard her ship made her top lip trickle with sweat.

However inconvenient it might be, Brienne could not deny the curl of desire that had started to lick at her abdomen as he spoke.

“I know you think you can fool me... lie to me... pretending to be the slightest bit...,” she was unable to even utter a word that might imply he somehow found her attractive, “ it's happened to me before, it'll happen again. Last time it was a bet, this time its to find out where the Starks have hidden your brother. I'm not stupid.”

“Oh no, no, Brienne, you are not stupid and if you had the smallest idea of how much time I’ve dedicated to planning my payback,” Jaime still had hold of her wrists and was using his superior strength to bear down onto her shoulder socket, keeping her flat on the floor, “ you would do everything you could to find out exactly where Tyrion is, and then take me up on my offer to get yourself as far away from me as you possibly can.“


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Brienne has a major problem with Jaime's plan.

_It would all be so much easier if she could simply ignore the stupid man,_ Brienne decided crossly.

Every time he walked anywhere near her, she became hyper aware of his presence, their enforced proximity making her even more uncomfortable with him.

Jaime Lannister was a constant, watchful omnipresence, even more so since her reckless outburst regarding his so-called plan.

They had left the Honour, the smaller space going vessel that Lannister was using for his ‘excursion’ to the Starks rendezvous was now a small galaxy class yacht, a Lannister class yacht.

_You would think that there would easily be enough space on board such a vessel to avoid someone, particularly if you were the only two people on board, and you had finally realised there was nowhere to run._

_Think again._

_The damned man seemed to be everywhere._

They were travelling ever further into the northern sector. Brienne recognised some of the star formations, the memory of travelling with Renly between trading outposts and planetary systems returning to her as they went.

She shuddered, not all the memories were pleasant. It had been a tough existence and one that she's had to fight hard for at the time, and then she mentally kicked herself.

 _You’ve moved on,_ she told herself.

Brienne turned to find Jaime Lannister watching her, silent, still, a predatory gleam in his eye.

“Is everything going to plan?” She asked him.

“Yes,” Jaime Lannister’s answer was short and to the point, "of course."

Brienne was trying to think of him as 'Lannister' now, not Jaime, not the Kingslayer.

She had learned quickly that calling him Kingslayer would always result in a vitriolic response, a response that always showed just how good he was at finding her vulnerabilities and targeting them with ruthless efficiency.

 _My size, my looks, my experience... or lack of it._  

Yet it was important to keep some kind of emotional distance, Brienne kept telling herself, _Jaime Lannister, the Kingslayer, didn't make friends._ _He groomed people he could manipulate._

Brienne was keenly aware that every interaction he undertook, seemed to be rooted in an anticipated pay off somewhere down the line.

He had managed to extricate her, completely against her will, from the Stormlands Alliance on the basis she could help him locate his brother. 

_Ruthless was a mild word to describe Jaime Lannister when he decided he wanted something._

“You do still have a plan?” Brienne threw the question at him really just to see if she could catch him off-guard. He seemed so certain, so sure of himself. She had been idly watching the controls and sensors as they made their way through Riverland space towards the treacherous border territories.

Surely he knows how dangerous it is this far from regularly patrolled space closer to Kings Landing,

“Yes, I have a plan.” He assured her.

“Does this plan include a section on pirates?” She asked him.

“Why do you ask?” The expression on his face could only be described as grim.

Of course it would include pirates; he was taking them north of the strip of galaxies known as the Trident. The threat of salvage dogs and pirates was endemic.

He'd better have a more elaborate plan than the one he had revealed to her so far.

“Does it cater for salvage dogs?”

Sighing, Jaime Lannister finally turned to face her fully, his expression cautious, his green gaze hooded.

“Should I ask why you feel the need to ask these questions, wench?”

"Brienne," she told him.

"Brienne," he acquiesced for once.

“If you had been paying attention, you might have noticed that we are being followed. The ship's geometry would suggest… pirates or, more likely, salvage dogs… better make sure we don’t make any unscheduled stops or hit anything. Not if you want to get to your rendezvous with the Starks on time and in one piece, Lannister.” 

_Stop showing off Brienne!_

She prevented herself from saying anything more, realising how much she might have advanced Jaime Lannister's cause yet again in just those few brief sentences.

 _Don't be so willing to cooperate with him,_ Brienne reminded herself frantically but she could not simply unsay what she had just said.

It was as if she simply lost verbal control when he was there, so desperate was she to fill the brooding silence that seemed to constantly yawn between them at present.

_What is it about him that makes me want to talk so damn much?_

“That is a very interesting observation Brienne.” Lannister didn’t ask how she knew, she noticed.

Not trusting herself to open her mouth again, Brienne walked past him with her nose in the air. As she brushed past him, she caught the scent of him; wicked, exotic and expensive.

Her stomach gave an involuntary lurch of desire. Her fingertips tingled.

 _You are a dangerous man Jaime Lannister, but I am wise to you_ , she thought to herself primly as she left, shoving her hands deep into the pockets of her breeches.

Jaime watched her go, eyes cool, his half-smile, hot.

                                           *                            *                                *                                 *

 

“And so…. Would you like to start proceedings?” asked Jaime Lannister.

“But of course my friend,” The man sat before them raised his drink to his fellows, then to Brienne and finally Lannister himself before he growled “Blood and Wine!”

“Blood and Wine!” They all chorused, following suit as they drank from their own cups.

 _Shit,_ Brienne thought to herself as she stared at the unkempt man before her, a man who was refilling his drinking vessel even as she waited for his toast to end, whoever would have thought it.

 _You've outdone yourself this time, Lannister!_ Just when she thought she had his measure, he managed to shock her yet again. _Unbelievable!_

“Blood and Wine, my friends,” Jaime Lannister replied, “and may all your ventures be airtight.”

“Ha!” cried the assembled motley crowd as they raised their cups again, “Blood and Wine!”

 _He's unbelievable!_  Brienne blinked , an unconscious grimace pulling at her lips and indenting her cheeks as she stared at the pack of salvage dogs toasting Lannister as if he was an honoured guest and old friend. 

_What the hell is he doing? Does he not understand just how dangerous these lost creatures are?_

It was then Brienne realised her face had fallen into a sneer.

She wiped the expression quickly, all too aware that her reaction might cause offence to their surprising visitors.

Brienne ventured to peep out from the corner of her eye to see if anyone had noticed her faux pas but it would seem her standing position, next to Lannister’s chair, put her out of their line of sight.

“And may all your ventures be airtight also, my friend. But, I have to ask myself….. what ventures might there be that would tempt the mighty Jaime Lannister deep into northern space?” The leader of the pack was an compact man with a loud voice and a steely gaze.

 _Salvage dogs were a dangerous and unpredictable group of individuals,_ Brienne knew that as fact, she had dealt with enough of them.

“You need to ask me that when you have already studied all my transmissions including the Winterfell system specs in some depth?” Jaime Lannister responded lounging back in his chair, looking to all intents and purposes incredibly relaxed, ”is your mighty pack still wondering what we might find of interest there?” Lannister allowed himself a small smile as the pack leader slammed his cup down on the table between them in apparent disgust.

“I do not need to wonder, Kingslayer… I do not need to guess… the mighty pack deal in certainties my friend, not guesswork.” The smile of the salvage dog’s face was an all too knowing one, but he failed to elaborate, letting the silence stretch on between them until it became tense and uncomfortable.

A cough, a splutter and then a strangled sound echoed into the highly charged silence.

It was one of the salvage dogs crew choking as his drink went down the wrong way.

As suddenly as silence fell, uproarious laughter erupted as the victim of the choking episode was thumped on the back until he pleaded for mercy in a voice loud enough to prove his airway was clear of the vile alcoholic beverage they had insisted on bringing on board to celebrate what would seem to be their latest encounter with the mighty Kingslayer.

“And I find you with a new...friend.”

Brienne suddenly found herself the subject of attention for all those present. The pack leader leered at her, his eyes flicking over her height and breadth as she stood squarely behind Jaime Lannister. Brienne was quick to note that his dark eyes flicked over her blunt features before returning to Jaime's handsome face.

She was being assessed. They were being assessed.

_As a pair._

Brienne nodded abruptly at him, keeping her back rigid, according Jaime's odd companions more deference than she thought she would ever have to give the kind of space scum she had seen perpetrate awful atrocities.

_Damn you Jaime Lannister._

The captain of the salvage dogs suddenly roared with laughter, making her flush what she knew to be an unbecoming shade of bright red.

“Call me Locke .... and you must be, let me guess..... the Kingslayer's whore.”

The entire company burst into laughter, their mirth rolling around her like a toxic cloud.

"That is not my name," she told him icily.

Standing as she was, Brienne couldn't see the expression on Jaime's face but Locke could. Locke's expression was crafty, a man who stayed alive by living on his wits.

He indicated that she should sit in the chair next to him.

“Do I care what you are called? Sit, you’re making me nervous.”

Brienne glanced down at Jaime Lannister, who turned and nodded abruptly.

Brienne sat herself between Jaime and Locke, not quite in the chair adjacent to the salvage dog, but close enough. She sat up straight, her back rigid, with her arms resting on the table in front of her.

“So, what is your name?”

Brienne looked quickly to Jaime, who again gave the smallest of nods.

“Brienne,” Brienne cleared her throat self-consciously as she added, "of Tarth."

“Brienne of Tarth, ” He stretched his hands out towards hers, the rings on his fingers sparkling with the refracted light of priceless gems.

Brienne had no idea what she was supposed to do with the proffered hand.

_Kiss it, shake it, ignore it?_

“Mr Locke,” She amended quickly, withdrawing her own hands and shoving them deep in her pockets.

_Avoid it._

Locke frowned and studied her closely.

“Why are you here Locke?” Jaime Lannister asked him bluntly, "I thought we had settled everything.".

“Ah, the same old Kingslayer, never one for foreplay, you always did like to get straight down to business.”

“But I am still just as picky as to whom I get down to business with.” It was Jaime’s turn to pretend to smile.

“Then your tastes are acquiring a dangerous edge,” the salvage dog Locke included Brienne in the sweep of his arm, “As well as a faceless man in your bed, Lannister?”

“I am not a man,” Brienne bit out through stiff lips.

“She’s not in my bed,” Jaime Lannister replied, much in the manner of someone obliged to give an answer, “And she most definitely has a face. You can't miss it.”

_More laughter._

“I am not like those green idiots you knew all those years ago, Lannister. Your reputation leaves a lot to be desired... oathbreaker, betrayer…”

“Betrayal would suggest an element of trust.” Lannister cut across him impatiently, "and I thought our agreement was based purely on gain."

"I've never particularly rated trust," Locke sat back in his chair, his expression calculating, "however gain.... yes, that's always worth some risk."

Locke raised his hand and indicated that Brienne should be brought a cup.

“What is this?” Brienne asked, her tone suspicious as a vessel was thumped down before her.

“Don’t tell me you ascribe to the tradition of ‘drink not with thine enemy’, Brienne of Tarth?” Locke jibed, “and you born of the Stormlands?”

Jaime picked up his own bottle of wine and filled her cup himself.

"My lady," was all he said.

Brienne glared at Jaime, then Locke, before picking up the cup and tossing the liquid down her throat in a show of defiance, slamming the drinking vessel, top down, on the table surface before her.

_Seven hells!_

“Blood and Wine!”

The appreciative roar from the salvage dogs present washed over her as her body reacted to the progress of the fiery liquid down her throat.

_Seven bloody hells!_

It had an after-kick like a bad tempered horse.

Jaime's hand caught hers as it rested by her side, squeezing a gentle yet firm warning.

“Enough. What is it you want?” Jaime got up to stand at her shoulder, the warmth of his hand heavy on her, like a brand, it seared her skin, through her clothing.

“Maybe you haven’t changed so much after all, Jaime Lannister,” Locke grinned at him, “but your faceless man… now, I thought she might be different.”

Brienne felt her face twist into a scowl.

“So have you decided to cooperate after all?” Lannister snapped, his patience apparently at an end, “This is what this is all about isn't it? You have come to a decision and don't trust your comms systems.”

“Any system can be compromised.”

“I sincerely hope it can. And so?”

“So, I've decided to harvest.”

“Pardon me?” Brienne could not quite hide her shock at their words _. Surely he didn't say..._

"Harvest?"

"Yes."

_Jaime Lannister is going to use a salvage dog crew to get me aboard the Stark vessel?_

_No!_

“Did he not tell you?” Locke took a cursory look about the room and then leant across the table to say to her in a low voice, “ Did he not tell you what he was going to do to their ship, Brienne of Tarth? Did he not tell you how he intends to break the ship and then use you to scour their systems for information while we harvest what we want from it.”

"You can't..." Brienne was appalled as she looked towards Jaime. It went against everything she stood for, everything she had done in the Reach to prevent the salvage crews from harvesting the ships she attacked, "you can't do this Jaime."

Jaime Lannister did not respond, he simply stared straight back at the pack leader giving nothing away, until he spoke in a cold, emotionless voice, “I will incapacitate the ship, and then you can move in to harvest whatever is on board. Get in my way and I’ll crush you underfoot so thoroughly that you’ll never survive in normal gravity again.”

Locke snorted with laughter.

“Do what you can and good luck. Better than you have tried, Kingslayer,” he drawled, apparently unaffected by the Jaime’s threats.

The salvage dog turned in his seat to face Brienne.

“And what is your price?” he asked her, his expression deadly.

“I haven't got a price,” Brienne insisted dourly, flushing a dull red as she caught Jaime watching her.

“Everyone has a price, it's usually a question of how much,” he insisted, reaching out to seize Brienne’s chin, his fingers pinching her jawbone.

“I am not... for hire.” She told him through twisted lips, pulling her face away from him with a powerful tug.

“Maybe... maybe not.” With a flick of his fingers he released her.

Lannister shook his head at her as Brienne went to furiously correct the salvage dog yet again.

“So where are you bound now?” Lannister asked as Locke climbed slowly to his feet and indicated to his crew that they were leaving.

“I will meet you at the agreed coordinates - I have no wish to linger in your company any longer than is strictly necessary, no offence." Locke then turned once more to Brienne, studying her carefully, "I'll leave you and your giant to your own devices." 

"I'll be there," Jaime gave a smile that did not make it to his eyes.

"It must be odd, doing it with a woman that big." Locke laughed at his own observation," Try and make sure you get to the rendezvous in one piece, Kingslayer."

Brienne took a breath to voice her objections to both Locke's words and tone, but then released it on glancing at Jaime and seeing the expression on his face that clearly said, _Don't say a word!_

So instead she got to her feet, all the better for watching the salvage dogs leave.

But once they were gone, she rounded on Jaime, giving him the full force of her disapproval.

“You can't do this!" Brienne finally spat, shocked to the core at Jaime Lannister's ruthless plan, "You can't do this to them!".

“They have my brother, I've promised them I will stop at nothing to get him back,” Lannister replied, walking away, "and I mean it."

Brienne pounded after him, furious.

 _Jaime Lannister was more than serious about getting his brother back,_  she realised, _he was_   _deadly serious._


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jaime and Brienne disgree...  
> (Please be aware of the rating on 'Grounded' before you read)

As she stamped after Jaime, Brienne was still pumped full of adrenaline. So full of the flight or fight hormone, she didn’t know what to do with herself.

_Damn Jaime Lannister, just damn him!_

She didn’t know whether to shout at him or noisily brood over the fact he’d failed to understand her so completely, but as she chased after him she could only assume that Jaime knew she was spoiling for an argument with him because he just kept right on walking as she thumped along in his wake.

"I'm not leaving you alone... I will not go away until I have told you what I think about this!" she told the back of his head.

What was it about Lannister that made a typically cautious, measured individual like herself go completely off at the deep end?

_I'm his captive, I should hate his guts and here I am thinking I can stop him doing anything he likes?_

Brienne didn’t want to think about it too much, any of it.

Any topic related to Jaime Lannister was too uncomfortable to dwell on, and whichever way Brienne came at the problem, the core reason remained the same.

She, Brienne of Tarth, seemed to have developed something of an attachment, or whatever you wanted to call it, to Jaime Lannister.

_How? Why? Why would I do this to myself?_

She was still big Brienne.

_The woman people called "beast", "ugly" and occasionally "beauty" with just that particularly nasty note of sarcasm._

What was she thinking? And that it was one of the Lannister family? That just made it worse.

_Ye gods, why did it have to be Jaime Lannister of all people._

Hardly the same as her attachment to Renly. At least Renly had been....

_This was absolutely, ridiculous!_

Brienne was used to being on the outside in relationships. Both men, and women, would often treat her quite differently to others of the same sex as her. Sometimes it would almost be as if they were embarassed for her, her size, her huge build. Almost as if they felt bad for her by extension. Brienne had learnt early on that it was not wise to share any feelings of attraction with boys, and then men, for whatever reason. Because they never felt the same way. 

_Ever._

It was a basic rule of Brienne's life, that for her to survive, it had always been wisest to stay silent on the matter.

_But Lannister?_

What was she thinking of?

Jaime Lannister was different. As impossible as it seemed, the man with the fuck-me-body and the fuck-off-eyes had managed to work his way under her skin.

_Why did it have to be him?_

_It had to be some kind of syndrome..._

At that precise moment Jaime walked straight into his cabin, and turned on her as she piled in after him.

“What do you want?” Jaime looked at Brienne, eyebrows raised, almost as if he could read the conflict raging in Brienne even as he stood there. “What's up with you now?”

“Everything.” Brienne held his gaze and then realised her scrambling to keep up with his long fluid strides had untucked her shirt from her borrowed breeches. If she opened her mouth, she felt certain she would start shouting at him again again so she settled for staring at him as she shoved the shirt back into her breeches, in silence, breathing heavily through her nose until some sort of calm settled on her.

The calm didn't come.

“Brienne...” Jaime went to rest his hand on her shoulder, but then seemed to think better of it, "I need to get Tyrion back. If there was any other....”

"There is always another way.... I was fighting for my life and that of my crew in the Reach, and I still managed to find another way," she insisted.

Brienne kept facing him, looking deep into his angry green eyes, Lannister’s words playing over in her head.

_No other way?_

‘I have an appointment to keep. I haven’t the time to cater for the whims of others," Jaime looked her up and down before turning away, "besides..."

"There is no besides.... what do you think your brother would think of your methods?" Brienne moved round to stand in front of him, close enough to get right into his face, "would Tyrion thank you for doing this on the chance of some information as to his whereabouts? A chance piece of information... it's not even certain I'll be able to find anything....."

Brienne had only ever seen Tyrion Lannister once, from afar.

But it had been enough to make an impression. Tyrion Lannister had stopped to help a woman who had been knocked off her feet at the side of a space dock. He obviously didn't know the woman, but he had halted his entire entourage to ensure she was back on her feet and fully recovered before he moved on.

A person like that might have principles and a set of beliefs that would preclude a ship wide massacre, Brienne hoped.

"Don't do it," she told him bluntly.

"That is not an option," Jaime replied.

“That’s because you are not thinking about the problem properly, Lannister,” Brienne responded, "you've decided on a solution... and it's the wrong one!"

“Is it? Well thank you for your opinion… .”

“You, Jaime Lannister, are a coward.”

Lannister stopped short at Brienne’s words, staring as if he could not quite believe his ears. “A coward?”

“A coward,” Brienne reiterated, her mouth twisted into an ugly scowl, "you've committed to this and now you're too scared to change your mind."

“I've committed to this because there are no alternatives!” Jaime Lannister’s tone was furious. “Coward?... I’ve seen things that would make your blood run cold…”

“So have I, and they were all perpetrated by the very type of people you've chosen to work with.”

“I am not—” Lannister had to stop mid-sentence to modulate his voice which had risen to a shout. “I am not ignorant of their methods Brienne. But the fact remains we need to get aboard that ship in order to access their systems.”

"No, we don't."

"I don't believe you."

“No we don't, Jaime.” Brienne stood tall in front of him. “I’m not here to trap you, or trick you. It was you who got me off of Storms-E in one piece, and you are the one who told me to do this and then you'd let me go. You found me, Lannister. You came and found me!”

Brienne could feel her temper rising to match Jaime’s.

“So listen to me,” Brienne finally hissed at him, "and I'll tell you how we could do it without killing everyone on that ship."

_Silence._

Brienne cleared her throat, this was now very awkward.

_Was he really not about to even consider an alternative?_

Jaime Lannister sighed, scowled and then raised his face to look her in the eye.

“I already have a plan.”

“I refuse to participate in that plan,” Brienne’s repeated slowly, as if to one who was slow to understand, "I refuse, Jaime. I will not work with Locke. I will not board any ships with you, I will not access any ships systems for you, I will not retrieve any information for you, I will not cooperate with you.”

Brienne sat herself down heavily in a nearby chair and crossed her arms, "I refuse."

Jaime sat in a chair opposite hers, fidgeting slightly, running his fingers through his hair until it stood up on end.

“I haven't got time for this,” Jaime studied her for a moment, before standing abruptly once more, only to then plunge his hands deep into the pockets of his breeches, "I so haven't fucking got time for this."

Eventually he pulled out a small ring and threw it into her lap.

"What's this?" Brienne asked as she scrabbled to catch it before it fell on the floor.

"Codes," Jaime put his hands on his hips, "you can use them to hail a passing freighter and jump ship, you can use them to get a ship to come out and get you, whatever.That's what you want to do isn't it? That's what you've been trying to do since we left Storms-E, isn't it?... Escape? So do it, fuck off and escape."

Brienne stared at the code ring in her hand, and then at Jaime, nonplussed. Whatever she had expected, this was not it.

"I'm free to go?" she asked doubtfully.

"Yes! Yes you are free to go," Jaime snorted loudly and threw himself back down into his chair again, avoiding her gaze by staring at the floor, "By the fucking seven are you as stupid as you are ugly? Go, Brienne."

Brienne stood there feeling she had just won an empty victory of monumental proportions.

She couldn't leave Jaime to make such a huge mistake.

_So I'm not going to participate in his stupid, reckless, awful plan - but it didn't mean he wasn't still going to go ahead with it._

_I can't go,_ she realised , _I can't leave him to do this alone._

_I only stand a chance of stopping him if I'm there with him._

Jaime was blissfully unaware of her current dilemma. He sat in his chair, hunched forward, his elbows resting on his knees, his hands buried deep into his glorious head of golden hair.

"Fuck off Brienne."

Another long silence ensued, Jaime staring fiercely at the floor.

Brienne took one, two steps towards the door and then stopped.

“I don't think I can,” Brienne responded doubtfully, “ you know... go...”

Lannister looked up and frowned at her, as if seeing her for the first time.

“I can't let you facilitate Locke,” Brienne added.

Jaime gave a brief bark of disbelieving laughter.

“How in the seven hells are you going to stop me?” Lannister replied abruptly. “Do yourself a favour, Tarth, and just go.”

“Um.." Brienne said nothing, _what was there to say?_

Jaime scowled, pushing his fingers through his hair several times, before he finally said, “Brienne… if you don't clear off now, I won't be held responsible for my actions.”

Brienne snorted and crossed her arms over her chest.

_Quite honestly, what else is he going to do?_

“If you know what's good for you, you'll go now” Jaime got up from his seat but didn't speak, he simply took one step closer to her and then stopped abruptly, rubbing his face.  
"I... please, go." he took another step, looking directly into her eyes as he did so, his wildfire green eyes weary.

  
_Gods, he looks so tired,_ Brienne felt her knees sag slightly.

“You can't make me?” she mumbled.

“Can't I?” Jaime took the extra half step that brought them nose to nose, until he was right in her face, so far into her personal space she could smell his hair and skin. Could see the flecks of emerald and jade that made his eyes so verdant.

And then he kissed her.

Not the shy hesitant kiss of someone unsure of their reception, but an arrogant, assured embrace of a man who had her measure.

_And more._

A man who was maybe trying to frighten her off.......because one of her ridiculous misnomers was 'The Maid of Tarth' 

Brienne felt a burning flush swamp her face but stood firm, refusing to be intimidated by the hot, heavy and irresistible attack on her lips.

His kisses were passionate, intense, his focus on Brienne's mouth absolute.

Defiantly, she did her best to kiss him back, her fumbling efforts being met with a groan from Jaime, and a hand in her hair.

Brienne felt the hard ridge of Jaime’s cock as his body reacted to her clumsy passion without reserve.

Jaime pulled at the front of Brienne’s breeches, wrenching open the fastening there so he could plunge his hand inside and run his hand over her muscular flanks and curl his fingers round the curve of one buttock.

“Jaime?” Brienne gasped.

“I warned you,” Jaime groaned, “tell me to stop, Brienne....” He took a deep breath, dropping to his knees before her, dragging the now open breeches down with him— the thatch of blonde hair at the apex of her thighs springing free from its confinement.

Instantly, he captured her in his hot, wet mouth.

With a yelp, Brienne felt her knees buckle.

 _Gods…I want this,_ Brienne realised, shocking herself _, so badly._

Jaime shifted slightly on his knees, all the while sucking hard. The draw from his mouth arousing a sensation so acute it made her knees weaken further and her head swim.

 _Gods. Gods. Gods!_ A whimper and then a groan escaped her lips.

Seemingly encouraged by Brienne’s gauche efforts to encourage him, Jaime upped his sensual assault.

He grabbed her backside as if to get as much of her into his mouth as physically possible, hands grabbing at her buttocks, pulling Brienne further into his face, so much so that Brienne could feel the tip of his tongue sliding almost to the entrance of her as he continued to nibble and suck.

Glancing down at him, her breath uneven, Brienne grabbed two handfuls of Jaime’s golden hair in a desperate effort to control him. The urge to come rising onwards, upwards, as he sucked and tongued her ruthlessly into an irresistible tide of sensation. Her climax rolling towards her with an inevitability that meant Brienne had to summon every scrap of control to prevent herself from coming.

"Tell me to stop," he mumbled against her.

“Don't stop,” she moaned as she fought the urge to make awful noises and come over his face, “please don't stop, Jaime.”

Nothing was wrong with Jaime Lannister’s hearing, as Brienne’s admission was instantly rewarded by Jaime sucking her clit entirely into his mouth and holding it there until she broke.

Brienne promptly came apart, her body bucking in reaction to the flood of sensation that coursed through her as she came against his mouth. She drew a deep frantic breath, once, twice, before she moved her hands to Lannister’s shoulders and finally pushed him away.

He looked up at her, eyes gleaming, gaze questioning, as he wiped a small trace of Brienne’s juices from the corner of his mouth.

  _He looks so smug._

“My turn,” Brienne demanded impatiently as she pulled Jaime onto his feet.

 _You are always in control,_ Brienne thought pushing him slowly yet firmly backwards towards his modest bunk _, always in charge._

His expression surprisingly serious, he didn't resist. Lannister raised his brows and licked his lips—his eyes wildfire green, alight with a dangerous excitement rather than the weariness Brienne had seen there before.

Without looking down, Jaime flipped open his breeches, shucking them off before he fell backwards onto the bunk, reaching out to pull Brienne down on top of him.

A long, lingering kiss followed, during which Brienne could taste herself on his tongue. Jaime was pulling his shirt from his back, already running his hand over himself, no doubt getting ready to start his second sustained assault on Brienne’s senses.

 _Control freak,_ Brienne thought sliding down the lean hard body beneath her to kiss his ribs, the hard plane of his stomach and his narrow hips before she gingerly took Jaime into her mouth, _but a delicious control freak._

Brienne inexpertly rolled her tongue then her lips around the head of Jaime’s erect cock, the salty taste not unpleasant as she changed the angle of her mouth and her position across his body in an effort to make it as pleasurable for him as he had for her, frowning with concentration as she did so.

With a lick and a kiss she finally looked up at him,"Is that any good?" Brienne swirled her tongue yet again.

A groan, followed by an involuntary buck of her willing victim’s hips, would seem to say yes, it was.

“Shit.” Jaime’s voice was hoarse and higher than usual.

_That was yes, right?_

Brienne continued to lick and suck, thinking of what Jaime had done to her, studiously turning that knowledge back on its head to inflict it on him, coaxing the helpless Jaime into a rocking then thrusting rhythm in time with the milking action of her mouth.

Glancing up, Brienne could see his face was a barely held mask of rigid control.

 _Are you close?_ Brienne’s tongue was beginning to ache with effort, _You must be close..._

_How close are you?_

The normally cultured tone of Jaime Lannister’s voice deserted him as he finally broke, hoarse, begging, “Fuck Brienne, fuck… fuck.”

Jaime buried his hands in Brienne’s hair as he started to thrust wildly into his climax, unable to deny his orgasm any longer—his movements becoming wild, desperate—as he plunged and bucked into her mouth.

With a final mighty groan, Jaime came, and Brienne dropped his cock in surprise as he jack-knifed into his climax.

_I did it!_

Swallowing, Brienne glanced up to see Jaime staring down at her, beautifully sweaty and undone, his golden hair tumbling wildly about his face, his expression serious.

“Gods, Brienne” He suddenly grinned, "just... gods."

“It was all right”—Brienne smiled hesitantly back—“wasn't it?”

Lannister gave a brief shout of laughter. “What other talents might you have then, Brienne, in your as yet undiscovered oeuvre of delights?”

Suddenly embarrassed, Brienne shrugged. “Who knows?”

Jaime Lannister pulled her onto the bunk, sliding his hand across Brienne’s back to pull her close, “gods…”

Brienne studied Jamie Lannister for a moment, put one hand to his lean cheek then kissed him.

No peck on the cheek, but a good hard kiss. Feeling adventurous in the wake of her success, Brienne opened her mouth and slid her tongue against Jaime’s lips, urging him to let her in, 

Jaime did so and returned the embrace with interest, sliding his own tongue deep to the point of almost tongue fucking Brienne’s mouth.

He withdrew slowly, giving her a final peck on the lips before flopping back to lie with his arms outstretched, "okay... so... if I was going to piss off Locke and get this information without him, what would I need to do?"


	14. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The best of plans can still go wrong.....

“They tricked me,” Jaime Lannister braced himself against another barrage of fire from the Stark battleship, "this was supposed to be a negotiation, not a fight."

Whump. Whump. Whump.

A volley of shots broadsided them as they sheltered, virtually immobile, trapped against the side of a small moon.

“I hope you don't expect me to feel sorry for you?” Brienne replied, doing her best to keep calm under pressure, but alarmed at the battering they were currently being subjected to. They had reached the agreed coordinates, but Robb Stark was not a fool, "he's simply treating you like the threat you are."

"They agreed to meet," Jaime shot her an offended look that she decided it was more diplomatic to ignore. Ironically the more dire their circumstances became, the lighter his mood.

 _He's mad,_  Brienne told herself, _one of those crazy individuals that thrives on an adrenaline._

"Maybe somebody told him it was a trap?" She suggested to Jaime, not expecting him to actually be listening as he more than had his hands full attempting to extracate them for their current predicament.

Just as he had had to extricate them from the arrangement with Locke.

Jaime had not shared Locke's response.

Brienne trusted Locke about as far as she could throw him, even in double gravity.

Jaime had been as good as his word, he had come ready to meet with Starks, even if his main objective was to still steal the information he needed to free Tyrion, but Robb Stark had out manouvered him by sending a battleship rather than a negotiation party.

The northern battleship had refused to acknowledge all their efforts to contact them, instead it had sat immobile, firing on them if they came too close.

"You are letting your prejudices show, Brienne," Jaime told her, "you think all salvage dogs are incapable of keeping their word?"

 _Yes,_  she thought, glaring at him.

"Mmmmm," was all she actually said.

Brienne braced herself as another round of fire hit the ship side-on, making it buck and rock.

To make matters worse, pirates had moved in to attack them just as they had made it to the edge of northern space, coming out of nowhere to ambush them from the cover of an asteroid belt. There was no reason why they would not; the craft Jaime and herself were travelling in was not large, it was a small craft with a fraction of the firepower of Brienne’s old Alliance ship.

What I wouldn't give to be in that ship now, faster, bigger, more firepower, Brienne thought longingly.

It was always a necessary concession when crossing borders into different areas of space to keep firepower capabilities low. Any act or weapon that transgressed treaty law could be construed as an act of aggression by the local authorities and would always be contested. It boiled down to the fact that if you had enough firepower to protect yourself, you were probably going to get arrested and tried for something if you were in someone else's territory.  
The pirates had obviously identified them as easy pickings and had no such restrictions on the firepower they carried being outside the law anyway.

Jaime’s craft returned what fire it could, but it soon became apparent that they were being potentially outgunned and certainly outmaneuvered by the pirate ship.

"I'm not waiting here until they knock out all our major systems," Jaime raised his eyebrows at Brienne, shaking his head as she looked likely to argue, " I think we should aim for Stark's ship and see if he's just as reluctant to engage when these bastards start shooting at him. If we weren't at war before all this we will be when we've finished."

He stretched his arms out as he considered what to do next, and then threw her a sidelong glance, his green gaze sharp, " but before we go, do me a favour... can you clear out all my data from the server... nothing sensitive is to get into Stark hands,” Jaime rubbed his face, clearly distracted by the current attack, “My father would never forgive me if it did. Delete it, all of it. I want it so that even you couldn't find a whisper of anything on there.”

He had almost paid her a compliment.

Whump. Whump.

“This plan feels like it was doomed from the outset,” Brienne could not help but tell him.

“Your comment is noted. I'm beginning to wish that I'd set Locke on them after all. Update on the servers?” Jaime asked her, his widest grin back on his face as he looked at her.

“Wiped,” Brienne grabbed for the edge of the flight desk as another barrage of fire hit.

“Good. Smarten up, wench, almost time to abandon ship. Make sure the Stark collective know we need picking up. I don’t want to spend any more time than absolutely necessary in the company of either the pirates or the salvage dogs... I'm more valuable to the Starks than either of the other two.”

Gods, they weren't even out of this yet and Jaime was already thinking to how he was going to trade on his value as a Lannister to escape this mess.

"My name is Brienne," she reminded him wearily.

He turned to look at her, eyes of wildfire green gleaming as he said."I know."

Jaime then took their small craft off at speed past the moon, and on towards a nearby asteroid belt, much to the surprise of their attackers, in a last desperate bid to get closer to the Stark battlecruiser.

Somewhat predictably, the pirates gave chase, firing furiously across their bows as they went.

Then a larger, faster vessel joined them and Brienne thought for a glorious moment they were saved, until it turned on them and fired at point-blank range as it made a pass on one side.

Whump, whump, whump.

Brienne recognised the telemetry immediately.

_It was Locke's vessel._

Three direct hits to one side knocked their small craft sideways into the largest asteroid they had encountered so far. It damaged the ship’s systems and the energy packs responsible for lighting and life support.

It was time to abandon ship.

Or try to.

                            *                                     *                                             *                                          *

  
Brienne could hear the air escaping through the damaged hull even as she lay there on the floor, winded, wedged between a loose panel and part of the floor that had buckled on impact.

The life pods lay to the front of the ship. The ship had been fired on even as it lay immobile on the asteroid’s surface, and Brienne could only pray to the seven the pods were still intact. 

It had been game over for the ship’s hull, life support and, the way things were going, thought Brienne, her, too.

And Jaime?

_I have to find Jaime._

She didn't have much time. The lights were flickering out one by one as the power failed, and the air leaks were hard to ignore.

"Jaime? Jaime... are you okay?" she whispered.

_No answer._

Brienne had no idea how long she had been lying there, wondering when the air would run out and whether she could get up, until a pair of booted feet appeared within her line of vision.

_Was it Locke?_

He'd come to harvest a ship and it's crew after all... except it was Jaime's ship, and it was the two of them that were going to be taken for body parts.

_Lannister, where are you?_

She watched the feet exit the pilot area before heaving herself up onto her elbows and crawling out of her hiding place. Shuffling across the floor, she burrowed underneath another set of broken consoles and spotted a distinctive head of golden hair half buried beneath a pile of wreckage. 

A picture perfect image of Renly's body slumped in a pool of blood came back to her instantly.

 _Not now, I don't need to remember that now,_  she told herself panicked.

All interstellar ships were designed to survive a range of potential impacts.

 _But the crews that manned them were not..._ Brienne shook her head to clear it and then pulled herself to her feet, yanking at the paneling that had fallen on top of Jaime. She had to move another two before she could check for a pulse.

"Jaime?" she whispered harshly, "Jaime?"

Jaime groaned and moved slightly as she touched his dusty skin.

 _Alive! Thank the gods!_  She was aware of an overwhelming sense of relief as she saw his eyelids start to flicker.

"Is he well?"

Brienne gave an almighty jump as a cultivated voice came out of nowhere to ask the question.

Heart in her mouth, ready to fight with all she had, Brienne could do nothing else but nod, once, twice, before she turned to face the intruder, her hands scrabbling for a weapon amongst the debris that surrounded her.

"Ah, well, then I do believe, Shagga, we may have found my brother after all."

An exceptionally short blond man stood at the edge of the worst of the debris. He was accompanied by a thickset hulk of a man, easily twice his height, who was regarding Brienne from beneath a helmet that seemed to be entirely made of tusks.

Brienne recognised the shorter of the two on sight.

_By all the gods, it couldn't be.. _.__

"Tyrion Lannister at your service," he said, in a voice oddly familiar in tone and cadence, regarding her keenly as he indicated his companion with a wave of his hand, "and this is Shagga. Shagga of the Stone Crows, and currently my esteemed host aboard the most excellent pirate ship... the..."

"The Bloody Axe," grunted Shagga eventually.

"Ah yes, The Bloody Axe," Tyrion Lannister repeated.

Brienne sat down suddenly on the wrecked paneling as her legs gave out, eliciting a low groan from Jaime as she did so.

"I'm so pleased you've finally stopped," Tyrion told her as he walked round her in order to get a better look at his brother, "you do know you were flying straight at a Stark Battleship?"


	15. Chapter 15

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Once back at Port Harrenhal, there are important decisions to be made.  
> Banner by Ro Nordmann  
> 
> 
>   
>    
> 

When the Stormlands negotiation party finally arrived at Port Harrenhal, their very first demand was to see Brienne of Tarth.

Their second demand was an answer to the question of why she was still in the personal custody of Ser Jaime Lannister, and had not been released into a provisional informal custody on a neutral boundary world as had previously been requested.

_ So lucky that didn't happen  - people have a nasty habit of disappearing from neutral boundary worlds. No questions asked. _

It was a request that had been made immediately after Brienne had left Storms-E. But it was her arrival at Harrenhal, after her sojourn to the north, that seemed to trigger a flurry of communications and demands that caught Brienne by surprise and put Jaime in an extremely bad mood. Messages concerning her presence on the base station and other matters that seemed to result in the grandmaester Pycelle, constantly trailing after Jaime for some response or other.

It had not taken long for Jaime's patience to be exhausted with such mundane issues.

Tyrion quickly assumed responsibility for liaising with Pycelle, after an encounter with his brother had resulted in the maester  being on the receiving end of Jaime's left hand to his throat.

Jaime gladly surrendered all and any duties to Tyrion that involved him having to communicate with the man he referred to as that  _'_   _grey sunken cunt'_  , 

"I don't need my right hand to kill him," was all Jaime would say after one particularly intensive day of interstellar communication.

Jaime's right hand was still incapacitated after the crash, damaged by the debris that had fallen on them when they had ploughed into the asteroid. As a result, he had been unable to indulge in his usual knife play and  sparring with Daven.

_ His mood had most definitely suffered as a result. _

"I will endeavour to smooth things," Tyrion had promised with a quelling look at his elder brother.

So now, Jaime Lannister sat lounging in his chair at the table, resplendent in his red and gold battle dress, looking every inch the indolent heir to several sprawling western galaxies. 

Brienne sat primly next to him in her Port Storms-E warehouse overalls, trying to look like someone who had known all along that she was not actually supposed to be on board his ship, according to some obscure sub section of an even less remarkable agreement.

Tyrion sat right in the middle of the Stormlands negotiators, making it impossible for them to mutter among themselves.

“Maybe it would be for the best if Brienne of Tarth was released into our custody immediately, whilst we are still aboard,” suggested what appeared to be their chief negotiator, but it was hard to tell. Every one of them seemed increasingly reluctant to engage with Jaime and Tyrion.

Brienne glanced at Tyrion who simply rolled his eyes and pulled a face at his brother who betrayed the merest flicker of a smirk.

_ They were incorrigible, the pair of them. _

Their ability to communicate without a word being spoken was quite unnerving.

Watching Jaime fix each one of the negotiation team with his narrowed gaze, the tiniest slither of a wildfire green look enough to result in each one of them stumbling into an awkward silence in the middle of making their case for why Brienne should be released into their custody, was an education in itself.

“No.” Jaime’s eventual response was brief and to the point. The accompanying grin was as humourless as only he could make it and twice as cold. “I don’t think so.”

The fact that he had made them squirm in their seats for so long added to the general air of antagonism about the table.

_As if that were at all possible,_   thought Brienne, shifting in her seat, as uncomfortable in her own way as the delegation.

"Her family are anxious for her to return to the Stormlands," the negotiators persisted.

_By my family, they must mean my father,_   yet Brienne wondered exactly who was so anxious to see her returned to Stormlands controlled space? _Selwyn Tarth or Stannis Baratheon._

“What we had thought was that such a highly qualified... technician as Brienne of Tarth, may well prove a substantial addition to our own crew,” Jaime said, clearly watching each of the Stormlands delegation for any kind of reaction that might reveal their knowledge of Brienne's methods regarding information gathering.

_ Do they know anything specific about my methods?  _ Brienne wondered.

“You mean screw,” a smart-mouthed negotiator from the delegation muttered so quietly, Brienne scarcely heard him, but it was enough to make her flush bright red.

_ No, obviously they did not._

Jaime did not even raise an eyebrow, but the man who had spoken was immediately surrounded by heavily-armed security officers.

“It is hardly my job to remind you where you are,” Lannister informed him smoothly, his face wearing a deceptively lazy smile, “but I would ask that you do not refer to Brienne of Tarth in any terms other than those of the utmost respect.”

The negotiator flushed bright red and pulled at the collar of his ornate Stormlands Jacket as if it was suddenly too tight for him whilst sitting back in his seat, glowering at Brienne as he did so.

Brienne stared back, keeping her expression deliberately impassive.

It did not seem possible that the nadir of this gathering could get any lower, but the negotiations still managed to spiral even further downwards from that point. The main thrust of the negotiators argument seemed to be that Brienne could only be of value to the westerlands, and more specifically the Lannisters,  due to her detailed working knowledge of the Stormlands Alliance Fleet, and as such holding her was a direct act against the Stormlands as it put the security of the Fleet at risk.

Brienne had almost forgotten how she much she hated sitting at a table with high level negotiators.

Not that Ser Jaime Lannister or his legal counsel, Lord Tyrion, were in any way outdone. Both had moved on from pretending to cooperate on a few of the points presented to them regarding her return, to point blank refusal across the board. To say by the end of the first day that there was an impasse in the proceedings would have been a gross understatement.

Brienne simply wished they would decide quickly between them what they wanted to do, one way or the other. Only then could she start to plan her next move, and get her thoughts straight in her head. One of her chief concerns being how on earth she was going to walk away from Jaime Lannister and return to any kind of life in the Stormlands.

_ A short imprisonment with a blazing hot end was the most likely outcome if she did. _

It was never going to happen, even if it was possible, too much had happened for her ever to return to who she was before anyway.

_ Renly, Stannis and then Jaime. Most of all Jaime. Things were never going to be the same again. _

The man was so focussed on the war, so devoted to his family, to winning, that her leaving him would be nothing but the merest ripple on his emotional landscape. For Brienne it was starting to feel like the end of something approaching....

_ Whatever,  _ she didn't like to think what.

Although there were times when she felt as if she hardly knew him at all. 

_ Be careful what you wish for, Brienne,  _ she told herself firmly.

Maester Pycelle seemed to take a particular pleasure in reminding her of how great a collective the Lannisters were. Managing to point out in a single breath just how far above the touch of the heir of Tarth, Jaime Lannister actually was. _And h_ __e_ did it with annoying regularity. _

"Ah yes, Tarth. A poorly resourced and rather meagre collective," the maester had yet again observed spitefully, "spread quite thinly within the rim area known as the Narrow Sea I believe."

_ I don't care what he thinks _ _,_ she usually told herself  although occasionally she would actually ask Pycelle, "and your point is?"

Brienne was sensing that the maester really didn't like her very much.

But one particularly acid comment caught her attention as Pycelle hurried past her.

"What do you mean Tywin Lannister is on his way?" She asked him sharply, catching at his voluminous grey robe as he slunk past.

"I can't tell you that, its confidential information," he snapped.

"I think you've already told me the piece of information that could be considered a breach, Grand Maester Pycelle," she smiled coldly by way of reply.

"Tywin Lannister is on his way to advise his daughter Cersei in Kings Landing. This forms a convenient stop on the journey," Pycelle narrowed his rather unremarkable eyes and obviously couldn't resist adding, "Cersei and Ser Jaime are twins, and very, very close."

_ Ah yes, the beautiful Lannister twins. _

_ I've heard rumours of how close the Lannister siblings are. _

_ Rumours of just how intimate Jaime and Cersei were purported to be, was one of the reasons the Stormlands were currently squaring up for an attack on Kings Landing and the westerlands. _

_ The question of the true heir may well have a lot to do with Jaime and Cersei Lannister._

_ So just who was the real Ser Jaime Lannister? _

_ Was he the heir to the Westerland collective? The remote, isolated  man who seemed so devoted to his family, his collective and the winning of what looked likely to be a war. A man viciously rumoured to be the father of his own sister's children. Was that the true Jaime Lannister? _

_ Or was he the man who told her to go when he was about to embark on what seemed like a suicide mission? The man with the wildfire green gaze, the body of a god and who made her skin burn even with the most casual brush of his fingers on the most innocuous parts of her body. The man who threatened Stannis Baratheon with a fleet of gunships just so he could get her off of Storms-E alive. Was that Jaime? _

_ Who knew? _

_ Maybe Cersei did, _  whispered the voice in her head.

The negotiations broke up for good shortly after Pycelle shuffled in with his latest communication.

“So, Jaime,” Brienne broke into a jog to keep up with him as they left the meeting room, “when do you think the negotiation team will leave?”

“Why, have you got somewhere you need to be?” His voice was remote, cold and heavily laced with sarcasm.  They had finally entered his cabin, and Brienne turned to face him. “No of course not. But now you’ve got Tyrion back, you'll have the opportunity to send a message to Stannis about the strength of your collective and how serious you are.” she pointed out to him, "With Tyrion returned, you can start to plan how your collective is going to win this war." 

“One would be a fool to think this is anything other than just the beginning.” Jaime’s expression was bleak. “There is a lot more still to do if we are to win whatever is coming.”

“Oh?” Brienne waited for him to elaborate, but he said nothing more. 

Jaime sighed and looked up, “Brienne —”

“What?  You think I should go back? ” She rubbed her hands  nervously over her forearms . The sensation of her fingers running over her skin sparked an involuntary tightening of the nerves in her gut to add to the desire starting to fire her blood. “ Have they convinced you to send me back to the Stormlands with them? I must admit I wonder what on earth I would do here if I did st... why I might think I should stay..."

_ An honourable man would  surely  stop her now, would tell her that his interest lay elsewhere. _

_ With Cersei. _

_ With the war. _

_ Or at least nowhere near her. _

“Brienne, listen to me as I am going to say this only the once, ”  he stared at her, his expression one of controlled  anger,  “ I will not allow them to take you back to Stannis, or Dragonstone, for a trial. You need to trust me on this."

“ Is it even going to be your decision to make ,” Brienne  replied wearily , not wanting to get off the subject of what there might be for her if she did stay, "maybe it should really be mine.  Maybe I should simply disappear before they try and take me by force."

"You are not going to be taken from me by force," he growled, still all that was beautiful and golden, despite the ugly twist to his mouth.

_Ye gods, I'm a Stormlands fugitive,  even you wouldn’t be able to stop someone armed with the correct documentation. _

Jaime cocked his head to one side, almost as if he could  read her mind,“and don’t even think of leaving—I’ll hunt you down. I have before and I will again if you make it necessary for me to do so.”

Brienne scowled in response his complete and utter confidence that he would be able to apprehend her.

“ I don't know whether you've noticed Jaime, but you  don't actually need me any more.” Brienne stood in front of him, frowning fiercely. “ Tyrion is back and he's safe. He's even managed to bring in additional ships that will do a lot to assist the Lannister cause when it comes to a fight, and if you had listened to the latest communication from Pycelle, you would know that your father is on his way.”

"My father?"  Jaime looked at her, his face  shifting with a range of emotions , the most alarming of which to Brienne, was the brief flash of surprise.

 _He doesn't know what his father's reaction to me will be,_   she realised, and in that brief moment Brienne felt mortally exposed.

_ Isolated. _

_ If I'm not a Lannister then I'm disposable . _

Jaime looked around them and then pushed her further into his cabin, out of earshot of any passing crew, the door shutting behind him as he did so.

"Do you want to go back?" His tone was slightly incredulous, almost insulted and his expression puzzled.

“I don't know what I want anymore," she admitted, her voice a whisper, "I spent so much time time not taking risks, not really doing much of anything except keeping people like my father happy. The Alliance was my opportunity to prove myself in my father's world, to show him and the others that I could be the -" she almost said  son,  but stopped herself, "The person who could live up to the title of heir."

It seemed supremely ironic to be having this conversation to the lion in waiting for House Lannister. The heir to Casterly Rock.

“I understand, I really do.” Jaime smiled slightly as he spoke, one finger of his left hand moving to caress the inside of her wrist. “ I understand what you are saying. I understand why you might think you can't stay here... but I refuse to agree to anything that will result in you being made into one of Stannis Baratheon's bonfires for the benefit of his bloody red god. ”

Brienne swallowed hard, and looked straight at him, willing him to listen.

“They may make your father an offer he cannot refuse," she pointed out, " and then whatever you would have done simply will not matter any more. I can't stay Jaime."

"You can't leave," he told her.

"How can I possibly not? Be sensible."

"I will make you want to stay," his smile suddenly extended into a grin of pure wickedness.

Brienne groaned with exasperation.

He was well nigh irresistable. A golden creature of light and dark, his eyes burning green wildfire one moment, as sharp as Valyrian steel the next, but Brienne could not lie, "Jaime, you cannot make me want to - not when the risk is..."

Jaime crowded her with his body murmuring, “you really have no idea, Brienne, what I can make you want to do."

_That was probably true,_ she realised, as she became aware of her breath coming in short gasps, her skin prickling with the red heat of a tell-tale flush as he moved closer to her.

“I… I'm sure I can guess,” started Brienne, her eyes rolling with exasperation as Jaime held her firm with his good hand, and then started to push her slowly backwards.

"Can you really?"

"Um, " ever truthful Brienne could only eventually utter, "well maybe - not. Jaime this is... I am-"

“Ah ha,” Jaime laughed softly, catching Brienne by surprise as she stumbled back two steps in repsonse to his progress, as a result he was able to walk her backwards, grinning.

Within a few steps she was teetering by the edge of his bed but still attempting to stand firm.

“This is a serious matter,” she murmured frowning in the face of his persuasive smile, " I'm trying to ... "

“It's really quite simple. What should you do next?  You are a fighter, Brienne. Someone who has to plan, think and act faster than anyone else in order to survive. But impulse can be a good thing too, a very good thing. Don't be scared to live a little... maybe do things because you want to," he whispered, "or because they feel good, or maybe even - right."

Jaime paused to stare at her for a long moment.

"What?" Brienne asked him.

"Your eyes are such an astonishing shade of blue," Jaime muttered, his gaze dropping to her lips as he moved in to kiss her.

Brienne felt her neck and chest flush bright beacon red.

"Oh," she responded weakly, "are they?"

With a huff of laughter he gently bit her bottom lip. He then fumbled with the buttons of her shirt, cursing the state of his right hand before laying it open. With her shoulders bare, Jaime proceeded to kiss her over every bit of newly exposed flesh before he went to remove the next item of clothing, and the next with much cussing and persistence. Finally, with a wide grin, Jaime pushed her back onto his bed, and pulled her boots off, licking her toes as he did so. He traced his tongue over her torso and then nipped and nibbled his way down to her breeches.

_ Well, actually his breeches, _ the stupid thought came to her as she watched him, _ that I happen to be wearing _ .

It didn't seem to put Jaime off.

“Brienne,” he murmured, before peeling them from her and throwing them to one side. He inhaled deeply before pushing her legs apart.

She could feel the silky locks of his hair brushing the sensitive insides of her thighs.

_Ye gods,_ Brienne was aware of someone nearby moaning over and over, until shocked she realised,  _its me._

“I need to touch you,” she groaned, unable to do so because he had by now securely fixed her wrists with his left hand, compensating for the lack of strength in his right, “Jaime, please….”

He paused, his expression quizzical., “Say that you'll stay… and I'll let go.”

_ I could say it, I could simply give in, and stay. _

“Brienne?” He crawled up her body until they were nose to nose.

“Jaime?” Her voice was hoarse, “It wouldn't work. I'd be in your way ...”

“Try me,” Jaime responded, his voice barely above a delicious whisper. “Try me. I, unlike some men you've known, keep my word. If you stay, I _will_ protect you.”

Brienne breathed in the distinctive scent of him. She knew him almost by that alone, just as she knew Jaime would keep his word if he gave it.

_ Now that I know the man, rather than the rumours_ _,_ she realised.

“You may not be able to make good on that promise,” she murmured regretfully as she attempted to straighten up.

“I will not break my promise to you, Brienne,” Jaime replied and without missing a beat dropped his head to capture her lips once more.

It was all it took, Brienne melting under the onslaught, opening her mouth and allowing Jaime to kiss her breathless. She pulled at his confining hand as he continued to worship every inch of her, moving down her body as she had moved down his own before. Tasting every inch of her skin, bit by bit, refusing to let her pull her hands loose from his.

“Jaime,” Brienne couldn’t seem to stop saying his name, “please, Jaime.”

"Brienne, tell me what you want…”

_ What I want?  _ She couldn’t resist him. The weight of his body, the brush of his skin against hers was slowly driving her insane. Finally he released her hands, tracing his way from her hip down into the crease of her inner thigh, brushing between her legs before he slid two fingers inside her.

Her hands hovered briefly over him, completely at a loss as to what to do before she raised them to cover her hot face in a futile effort to hide at least some of her response.

“Ye gods,” Brienne had never felt anything quite like it in her life. He kissed his way back up to her mouth and then continued to gently thrust inside her until he found her clit, circling it as he slowly pushed even deeper, curling round to touch the sensitive spot inside, easing his way.

She caught her breath once, twice and then cried out as a total, all-consuming pleasure rushed through her at his touch. Her large body bucked against the weight of his and the bed itself, making the fixtures and fittings rattle and creak, her entire skin sensitized by his slow, deliberate approach as he pushed her further still.

_ This isn't me - this can't be me. _

It was almost as if someone else was flat out beneath Jaime Lannister, moaning his name.

“Gods, Jaime. Just… do whatever you... want...”

_What am I saying? _ Brienne stared at Jaime continuing his leisurely exploration of her body. Maybe he didn’t hear.

Then Jaime looked at her, his green eyes wildfire bright..

He’d heard her all right.

_ Jaime. _

She wanted him to fill her, use her, consume her. It had never occurred to Brienne that it could be like this, that she would want him quite so much.

“Having fun yet, Brienne?” He kissed her as she lay there waiting for him, her chest heaving as he  finally  guided his cock into her in one long, hard, leisurely thrust.

“Yes,” she admitted with an ecstatic gasp as he withdrew almost to the tip before driving back into her again and again, his movements slow, relentless, “ gods, yes!”

“You like this?”

“Yes!” Brienne heard her voice crack, from ridiculously high and breathy, to broken and low as she answered him. She had no control whatsoever. He continued to thrust into her until he bent his head and took one nipple between his teeth, biting it with exquisite care.

The  painful nip  was sufficient to tip her body over the edge into another orgasm as she felt herself spasm on Jaime’s cock, clenching around him as she rode the second wave of sensation  through to its shuddering, convulsive, end.

_ Her second.. or was it third? Poor Jaime,  surely he needed to... _

“ Jaime. … ” She gulped for breath, “ what about you? Do you want to…? ”

Sweat was rolling off Jaime as he paused, mid stroke, to look at her.

“Want to what?”

“ You know... ”  She blinked rapidly, all too aware of the sweat gathering on her brow before it pooled in and beneath her eyes. Her hair was sticking to her face and she could feel her cheeks burn red as he stared down at her. His blond hair was in wild disarray about his beautiful face, eyes burning green, the muscle in his jaw bunching slightly as her words registered. He'd managed to shed his shirt but his breeches were still about his knees.

He was enough to take her breath away.

“Brienne…  ” Jaime thrust his hips gently against her again, and again, until Brienne could feel the tide of sensation in her  start to rise again, “let’s just carry on, shall we?”

And they did.

Again.

And again.

_  
_


	16. Chapter 16

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Brienne meets Tywin Lannister  
> Banner by Ro Nordmann  
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> 
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_Well, this was different._

Brienne stood in a room that was remarkably similar to Jaime's. What was not the same was the large chair situated in the middle of it, occupied by a cold-faced, lean, loose-limbed individual dressed completely in black.

Tywin Lannister cut an intimidating figure.

 _He looks like an older, less golden version of Jaime,_  she thought.

“My Lord?” Brienne refused the seat he indicated, preferring to stand to face the man before her.

“You may call me Lord Tywin.”

Brienne frowned and kept her mouth shut.

Tywin Lannister let her watch his gaze slowly track over her from head to toe, only then allowing a slight grimace to cross his features,“I think you know why I asked to see you.”

Brienne frowned and shifted from one foot to the other.

“Does Jaime know that you are talking to me?”

“No.”

“Does he know you have had me brought here to talk to you?”

“Not yet,” Lord Tywin's lips pressed into a thin line, "but he will be told."

"Oh?" Brienne could only imagine what Jaime's reaction might be.

"I will be the one that tells him."

Tywin Lannister's expression was sufficient to make Brienne work to keep her face impassive as she considered the potential ramifications of his words. “Is there a reason you wanted to talk to me in private?”

“A reason. One? Only the one reason?" He gave an unlikely bark of humourless laughter that echoed about the empty room," There are many reasons that require me to discuss certain matters with you Brienne of Tarth. And many considerations,” His voice lowered itself to a condescending whisper that sent a cold chill down Brienne's spine, " but let me simplify things a little... I have two people I wish to discuss with you, Stannis Baratheon is one, and my son, Jaime Lannister, is the other."

Brienne pressed her lips together, aware of her face turning an even brighter red as Tywin Lannister continued to stare at her long after his words had died away into the silence. His manner was such that he made her feel ill-mannered and awkward.

She had occasionally been accused of being slow on the uptake, Brienne had often been called a slow child by her septa, but even she could clearly see how the two names he had mentioned were linked irrevocably with her own.

“You are concerned that it will provoke Stannis Baratheon if I am not returned immediately,” Brienne mumbled almost to herself.

“That is true, I am concerned about Stannis, but it is not only that which prompts me to talk to you alone.” Tywin Lannister climbed slowly to his feet and walked across the room to stand before her. Brienne could clearly see shades of Jaime in his bearing and his autocratic, if austere, good looks. _There was never a substitute for good genetics,_ she thought scowling at his cheekbones.

“Then what is it that does concern you?”

“That you represent a far greater problem than you could ever understand. You, and your influence, represent an insidious and corrosive threat to my collective that I can simply not allow to persist. Why do you think that might be? ”

Whatever Brienne had been expecting to hear, it was not that.

“I think you somewhat overrate my influence on either of your sons.” She rubbed her temples, thinking as she did so that Lannister family dynamics made Westerosi treaty wrangling look like a parlour game. “I don’t…”

“I make it a habit never to overrate people,” Tywin’s face was an impenetrable mask as he regarded her. “Jaime is my heir, as my eldest son his decisions must be seen to be in the best interests of our collective and the westerlands. It is a role he has not had to fight for, or had to win. It is a position which is his by birth. Most within the collective do not have a problem with that.” Tywin took a deep breath. “What they will have a problem with, is you.”

“Me?” she gulped, but already Brienne could see where this conversation was going. Her stomach dropped to her boots.

“Jaime has to inspire confidence in the men that follow him, and more. If he is to hold the westerlands as a cohesive unit, his decisions must be accepted without thought or question,” Tywin allowed a faint glimmer of distaste to once more show in his face, "his choice of companion should be above reproach... a suitable woman, well bred, a paragon of all the womanly virtues ... someone who others envy, not a figure of ridicule."

 _A figure of ridicule?_ Brienne did her best to not let any reaction show in response to his words, _Tywin Lannister is like the opportunist opponent in a melee, ever vigilant for the smallest sign of weakness or vulnerability._

“I never presumed to...” Brienne swallowed the irrational lump that rose in her throat when faced with Tywin Lannister's icy dissaproval. Memories, of how she felt when Septa Roelle told her that men would always find her looks wanting made her flush yet again, the humiliating burn making her hunch her shoulders and scowl even more. It was as if Lord Tywin's eyes could see inside somehow, could see how weak, and worthless, and ugly one might be. “I did not encourage Ser Jaime my Lord. He sought me out, thinking I might help him secure the release of....”

“I had heard. Did you know your father was instrumental in starting negotiations with the confederation to secure your release?”

Lord Tywin continued to watch her, registering her every breath and twitch.

“I do not believe my father would have been the one to have initiated that,” Brienne responded tightly, "there are others with far more to gain."

The memory of Renly, lying in a pool of his own blood, came to her unbidden. 

“Indeed.” Tywin steepled his hands before him and regarded her with an uncannily familiar set of green eyes, although these were paler and flecked with gold. “Yet the effect is the same. It puts Jaime, in bed, with the enemy.” The man’s logic was undeniable.

Brienne could not help but blink at Tywin's words.

“M... my life will be at risk if I return to the Stormlands with the delegation...”

He was clearly uninterested as to her fate once he had removed her from Jaime's sphere.

“I would not be surprised. There are political elements that would use this situation to undermine the westerlands as a whole. An alliance with you, of any description, even the threat of an alliance, would be enough to ensure Stannis allies himself with the Stark collective. I cannot allow that. And the fact remains that your involvement with my son could bring his judgement into question within the collective itself. The potential divisions within the westerlands that would result, would more than suit the ambitions of many in the Stormlands Alliance and, indeed, much further north. Some may even conclude that you were actually part of a clever plot right from the start.”

"I am not part of a plot."

"So you say," Tywin's expression was neutral to the point of insult.

Brienne took a deep breath, “I did not ask to be arrested, Lord Tywin. I have lost everything and if returned to the Stormlands I am likely to be put to...”

The expression on his face was not one of concern as Tywin Lannister sighed, and then shrugged. “Your family, and indeed your collective, would surely not stand by whilst my son flaunts you as his whore? The Kingslayer's whore. In all honesty, I believe that although my son might be slow to come to reason, he will eventually grasp that fact. And while that is the case, the threat of Stannis joining forces with the Starks remains.”

Lord Tywin Lannister had no use for whores, that much Brienne had heard. The memory of Lord Tyrion's hollow laughter as he recounted his father telling him that he was done with whores, and that if Tywin found another one in his bed, he'd promised to hang them, was still a clear one for Brienne.

“You give me no option.. but to ask you to leave,” Tywin told her.

"I... I..." Brienne stuttered totally at a loss for words, “If I could...” She could not face going back to the cabin. Her heart lurched sickly at the very prospect of coming face to face with either Jaime, or even Tyrion. She’d never felt the need to say goodbye before, and she didn’t think she could master it in the next few minutes. “What will you tell the delegation?”

“I will simply tell them that you elected to leave this vessel without their escort.”

Brienne could not bear to even think on what Jaime's reaction might be.

_Anger, confusion... rejection._

“I suppose I had...” Brienne mumbled softly, an uncertain glance in Lord Tywin's direction as she went to leave,".... I need to get..."

"You will be provided with everything you need," Tywin Lannister took a step back, watching her coolly as he did so, "I will take care of everything. And I mean, everything.""

"Where will I go?"

“The wisest decision would be to leave that to us, Lady Brienne. I will call Lord Vary's immediately.”

As Brienne waited silently for Varys to arrive, she stared at the floor and winced as her heart crumbled away to nothing.

 

                                                         *                             *                          *                                *

 

It was a Lannister vessel that came to collect her.

Brienne felt the frisson of danger as soon as she stepped aboard. The entire ship seemed to hum with it. As Brienne made her way down the corridor with Tywin Lannister’s escort it was as if everyone stared at her as she walked.

“Kingslayers whore!” Brienne jumped as if she had been struck, turning to see the person who had barked the insult at her simply walking away. Every face of every person seemed to be looking her way. All regarded her with contempt.

“This way.” Her escort, Lord Varys, showed her towards a set of rich quarters. “I believe the Queen would like to see you right away.” The door opened to reveal a sumptuous cabin, far superior to any she had seen aboard any ship. It was a sea of cream and gold.

As she stared at the excess on show, Brienne wondered if the crew on her old ship had even noticed that she had gone.

“For fuck’s sake, what took you so long?” A petite woman with long golden blonde hair strode to the front of the cabin and dismissed Tywin Lannister’s man with a flick of her head. “You can leave Lady Brienne with me now Lord Varys. Tell my father you’ve delivered her as arranged and I’ll see to the rest.”

With that Brienne's escort bowed and scuttled out of the cabin, leaving Brienne to her fate.

“Your Grace” It was Jaime's sister, Cersei Lannister. According to popular opinion, the most beautiful, power hungry artificial bitch across several systems and the last person you would ever have wanted to see in this situation.

_Why did it have to be her?_

“So you are the one that has infuriated father and put Jaime in so much trouble,” Cersei suddenly burst into a peal of unexpected laughter, "Ye gods, you'd think he'd at least have chosen someone who looks the tiniest bit like a woman!"

 


	17. Chapter 17

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Does the truth hurt that much, Lady Brienne?” Cersei's smile was ice cold. "It started so well. First, you served Renly Baratheon, the pretender. I heard rumours of you being seen with Catelyn Stark and now, my brother. It must be an exciting life for you, Brienne of Tarth, serving one lord, before changing your mind and serving another."  
> Banner by Ro Nordmann  
> 
> 
>   

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I need to extend a huge amount of sincere thanks to stayseated for finding time to knock some sense into this chapter.  
> It needed some serious grammar wrangling - hope you all enjoy the final result!!

“My brother Jaime is a such a fucking idiot sometimes," Cersei said, her unnervingly familiar eyes flicking over Brienne, from head to toe and back again. "He really should have ended it with you before it went this far. You know how it goes, death before dishonour, and all that crap.” Physically, Cersei Baratheon  was a diminutive blonde, but little else about her could be described as small or little.

Her intimidating presence filled the room.

Cersei's manner was very grand and very much that of the regent she claimed to be.

“Are you suggesting that Jaime should have left me with Stannis?” Brienne asked. She had been prepared for some bristling suspicion from Cersei, but not quite this particular mixture of supreme carelessness with an edge of animosity.

“Do you not think this mess will have broken your father? The Tarth Collective was so proud of you. Your reputation has spread right through the fleet, the youngest—”

“Please don't, Your Grace,” Brienne said, stopping the woman opposite her with surprising forcefulness, before the Queen Mother could reel off that long list of now meaningless achievements.

“Does the truth hurt that much, Lady Brienne?” Cersei's smile was ice cold. "It started so well. First, you served Renly Baratheon, the pretender. I heard rumours of you being seen with Catelyn Stark and now, my brother. It must be an exciting life for you, Brienne of Tarth, serving one lord, before changing your mind and serving another."

Cersei indicated that Brienne should sit in the seat to her right.

"I don't serve your brother, Your Grace," Brienne told her, voice firm as she elected to stand, ignoring Cersei’s slight wave of a hand towards the chair, choosing instead to stay on her feet, putting her own hands behind her back and assuming a slightly defensive stance.

"That's not what I heard." Cersei smiled a small, contemplative smile that made the corner of her eyes crinkle slightly. “Or have been told.”

The silence stretched between them until Cersei gave the smallest sigh and sank gracefully into a chair adjacent to the one Brienne had rejected.

"Do you have any idea of the trouble you are in?" she asked Brienne, looking up at her through narrowed eyes, her green gaze glinting. "What were you thinking of, screwing one of the first sons of the damn Westerlands? If nothing else, I have to applaud your ambition.”

Brienne stared at a point past Cersei and wondered how much of Cersei's company she would have to endure before she was in a position to abandon the ship and disappear forever.

“Jaime is extraordinarily beautiful, isn't he?” Cersei mentioned casually, her gaze still sharp. "He was like a golden haired doll when he was younger, yet still such a wild and crazy boy. The expression on people's faces when they first encountered him was fascinating,  almost as if they were under a spell. It was as if they could not quite believe Jaime was real. He really had no idea of his effect on others, and it so amused me. I would watch them all, you know. People could not help but stare. Rich and poor, maesters, knights, and ladies—they would stare and stare, and sometimes ... touch."

Frowning, Brienne could not help but cast a sharp look at Cersei's face to see if she was being honest, but the Queen Mother had a far-away look in her eye and an expression on her face that suggested she was deep in her own thoughts.

“I never planned any of it,” Brienne told her honestly.

“Of course you didn't plan any of it,” Cersei responded dismissively. "That would require a level of intelligence, or at least an amount of low animal cunning that you simply do not have."

Brienne was aware of feeling vaguely insulted by the Queen Mother's assessment of her ability to plan a campaign if put her mind to it.

 _Just how stupid does she think I am?_ Brienne wondered, thinking on the sheer number of military encounters she had negotiated successfully during her time in The Reach, but this was different.

_This wasn’t about fighting with weapons._

_This was about damaging people with words._

"Jaime is the one who would have initiated it," Cersei told Brienne abruptly. "He is still that wild impulsive boy in some of his dealings, and let us not forget that beauty can sometimes mask a deadly danger."

“Your brother is not a child,” Brienne told her.

“No, my brother is most certainly not a child,” Cersei observed darkly. “ He is all man. You are responsible for the consequences of your actions, Brienne of Tarth, as are we all. But I understand how attractive my brother can be. When he wants something, he is quite ...  irresistible. He has been gifted with something of a magic tongue..."

_Surely Cersei would never admit to—_

Frowning, Brienne cast the Queen Mother a fierce look but encountered one of limpid innocence in return.

"My brother’s tongue could charm the bird from the trees," Cersei told her. "Or flay them to ribbons with a few caustic words. Jaime has little patience for fools. I've yet to understand why he has indulged you to the extent he has. I would have thought you would have bored him within minutes."

Cersei studied her assessingly, a predatory look in her eye as her gaze roved over Brienne's legs and hands.

"You look very strong. You've been described to me as a huge cow of a woman. Do you think that's it?" Cersei licked her lips, her tongue small and pink like a cat's as it left a glistening trail over the lower edge of her mouth. "Do you think it's your physique that he finds so attractive? Jaime has always admired strength, he was obsessed with his first commander, Ser Arthur Dayne, you know. I used to wonder what it would be like, sometimes when Robert was doing his husbandly duty, to have both of them instead of Robert."

Brienne felt her jaw slowly sag open as Cersei continued to talk, her thoughts obviously wandering and taking her mouth with it. The entire conversation appeared to be taking a turn for the far far worse.

 _I don’t want to know these things about you,_ was all Brienne could think, at a loss as to how to make Cersei stop.  

Her hand snaked out about Brienne’s wrist, her lean strong fingers manacling the bone in a vice-like grip. Suddenly, the soft focus of her Lannister gaze sharpened, knife-like, as she looked up and into Brienne’s shocked glare, a cruel smile whispering at her lips.

“I find it so very hard to imagine the two of you … together,” Cersei looked down to where her fingers gripped Brienne’s arm, gentling her hold slightly so she could run her thumb over the network of veins on the underside of Brienne’s wrist, “Do you want him more than he wants you, Brienne? Tell me my dear, just how hard do you have to fight for his … attention?”

 _How dare—_  

Indignant, Brienne went to wrench her hand from Cersei’s grip, but Jaime’s sister simply released her wrist and caught Brienne’s fingers instead with a pincer grip.

Brienne blushed bright red, a crimson flush bloomed from her neck and on upwards, over her face as she realised what Cersei was implying.

“Such spirit.” Cersei threw her an arch look as Brienne failed to pull her fingers free. “ _Such strength!_ ”

“Your Grace—”

"Maybe you should keep me company for the duration of our voyage. Perhaps I will discover your secret and find some satisfaction for myself." Cersei's eyes gleamed as she smiled. "Maybe you could keep me suitably entertained until Port BW? Just like you apparently do Jaime."

"Y-your Grace?"

Brienne moved her mouth slowly, but no more words came out. She truly had no idea what to say without embarrassing herself and possibly provoking Cersei towards even more uncomfortable behaviour.

Cersei watched her for a few moments before releasing an exasperated sigh and flicking Brienne’s fingers free in a desultory manner.

"Ye gods, you really are so deadly dull," she snapped. "Don't worry. From what I hear, your balls may be as big as Jaime's, but your cock most certainly is not. I already have the problem of what to do with you, and I have no wish to make it more complex than it is already.”  Jaime's sister frowned angrily up at the ceiling before shooting Brienne an acid look. “I am hoping you are in the market for some sensible advice, Brienne of Tarth. My advice being if you wish to continue to live for much longer, I strongly suggest you retire your links with the Stormlands, your fleet, and the Westerlands as soon as possible. Then lie low for a long, long time.”

Cersei might be a bitch, might have a vested interest, but she was absolutely right.  

Brienne sighed and said, “Of course.”  

Cersei Lannister dumped Brienne at the distribution and warehouse hub of Port BW as arranged, yet did not insist that Brienne take the identity that Tywin Lannister had prepared for her.

It seemed to suit Cersei, as much as it did Brienne, for the Maid of Tarth to simply disappear from known space.

Brienne had discreetly observed Cersei accessing her ship's systems and had subsequently used her limited time with Cersei’s high-level access to the Lannister and Westerland systems to re-establish herself an identity that would enable her to hide in plain sight on the borders of Riverlands sector space. It was an identity Brienne knew was secure because she had set it up personally—the bastard last name of Star was common enough amongst the inhabitants of Port StormsE. If she’d already made hub-fall there, then she could easily have also been to Port BW. Always better to amend existing information than create new.

Brienne signed on to work as soon as she arrived in one of the largest hangars within the distribution hub. All she had to do was work, and there was plenty of it about. Pushing carts of Port BW goods from hangar to hangar for re-shipping became her life, days became weeks, punctuated only by going back to her cramped cabin as little as possible, and sleeping.

Her productivity caught the attention of the hangar manager, Jaqen, who promoted her into the small team responsible for pulling priority cargoes. She developed a reputation for being the first to volunteer to do an extra shift, the first to offer to step in if someone needed time to do something urgently.

“Jeez, Star, don’t you sleep?” someone asked.

“No,” she replied bleakly.

Sleep brought dreams.

The giant vidscreens in the hangars and concourses flickered continuously throughout the day and night shifts. Brienne would half-listen to them as she went about her business.

Occasionally familiar words or phrases would filter through to her consciousness as she moved items from ship to hangar and back.

_Intergalactic spat—Robb Stark declared himself king of the Northern Sector—Direwolf Industries discovered rich ore deposits on Westerland Colony Planet 3 and was heading for conflict with the Lannister Collective._

They connected her, in a way, to her old life. She was walking backwards, guiding a load piloted by one of her younger female colleagues, Arya.

_Robb Stark's Northern Sector forces engaged with the might of The Westerlands—Intergalactic spat resolved— Ser Jaime Lannister attending high-level meetings with the Stormlands Elite Force over border dispute—new colony on—_

“He’s so tall and golden but that smile of his has the cut of a knife. He's the brother of the old queen you know,” Arya said as she manhandled the pallet off the transport into the aisle whilst looking up at the vidscreen. Brienne could only stop and stare at the screen, drinking in the sight of him. Where was Tyrion? How dare Jaime look so well, so alive, when she was so … thoroughly miserable. Brienne stared at the screen long after Jaime’s image had disappeared, not even registering what had replaced it. All she could register was a sense of loss so profound that it ran through her veins along with her life’s blood.

_This is my life now._

“Hey, Brienne, you okay? You’ve gone really pale.”  Brienne nodded in the face of Arya's sharp observation, aware of feeling numb and trapped as the girl's razor sharp eyes studied her face.

“Have you finished that order? If not, a man would like you to get on with your work,” Jaqen told them in a soft voice that seemed to make the frigid air of the hangar vibrate.

“You sure you’re okay?” Arya squeezed Brienne’s elbow, concern in her voice.

“I’m fine.” Brienne smiled bracingly. “Never better.”

But she went back to her cabin at the end of her shift and wept. 


	18. Chapter 18

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Don’t panic,” she repeatedly told the struggling girl through their local comms unit. “Stop fighting me and conserve your air.”  
> It took some time for Arya to calm down and even longer for her to start to make sense. “Brienne, are we going to die?” she finally asked, her voice strangely muffled by the vac suit helmet.  
>  _Lie... lie… now might be a great time for me to lie.... ___

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Amazing Banner by Ro Nordmann  
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> Oh my goodness, its only thanks to the phenomenal stayseated's turbo editing skills that I managed to get this posted before the end of October! I'm in shock and awe at how one person can be so productive!  
> I am, however, working on the next chapter even as you read this one... so enjoy!

It was a stupid accident.

One of the docking screens blew out on hangar thirteen because someone, _some idiot,_ had not reset it properly. 

Arya was sucked out. Her vac suit inflated almost immediately as she entered the vacuum of space, rendering her unable to grab at anything that might save her from being dragged into the black void outside Port BW. 

Brienne did not think, did not hesitate. She was on a safety harness, as she had been scaling the cargo above floor level, and instinctively lunged for her work colleague as Arya shot past. By a chance in a million, Brienne caught her and both of them were thrown out into space beyond the hangar docking port, their progress only slightly slowed when the harness caught — and stretched. Desperate, Brienne hoped that their momentum would not prove too much for the cable —  but it would seem she had used up all her luck when she caught Arya on her way out. The cable that attached them to the hangar wall broke.

_Shit!_

“Don’t panic.”

Even as she said the words, Brienne felt a knot of fatalistic dread settle in the pit of her stomach as Port BW slipped irretrievably out of reach. _Don’t panic!_

“Don’t —” Brienne’s own vac suit was almost compromised as the terrified girl continued to strike out.

 _Hell,_ thought Brienne as she held on grimly to Arya, _space is still a cold horrible place._

“Don’t panic,” she repeatedly told the struggling girl through their local comms unit. “Stop fighting me and conserve your air.”

It took some time for Arya to calm down and even longer for her to start to make sense. “Brienne, are we going to die?” she finally asked, her voice strangely muffled by the vac suit helmet. 

_Lie... lie… now might be a great time for me to lie...._

“The harness has a locator chip in it. If someone passes within range, they’ll spot us as long as I keep a hold of you, and we do not get separated. And the comms units send a distress signal when it detects it’s still on and a certain distance from the hub.”

 _Or at least to avoid answering a question properly._  

There is actually little traffic that ever comes this way round Port BW because of the station topology. The comms unit distress signal is brief and weak. The chances of it being swamped by other signal noise on the hub systems are huge.

_No one knows we are out here, and we’re probably going to die._

The problem was that space was so big, and hangar thirteen was one of the more remote facilities. There was a distinct possibility that they would be missed and not located until they had run out of breathable air.

“How do you know stuff like that Brienne?” Arya asked. “Are you a hub agent? Jaqen said that you know far too much to be a humble cargo handler.”

Hub agents were undercover security guards employed to be the eyes and ears of hub administration officials.

“No, no chance of that,” said Brienne abruptly. “And a man like Jaqen H’ghar should know better than to say something as stupid as that.”

“He started off by suggesting you had something to do with the Lannisters?” Arya’s expression was hard to read through the perspex of the helmet. “But I told him you weren’t an idiot.”

_Why would H’ghar think that?_

Jaqen had secrets, too — Brienne was sure of it — as probably did Arya. They were all either hiding something, or hiding from something, at Port BW.

The pair of them drifted for a while, hours, slowly getting colder and colder. The vac suits had less and less heat to conserve as the two of them slowly started to freeze to death. Brienne could track the damp patch on her back, due to the sweaty work of climbing the cargo pallets in hangar thirteen, slowly start to crystallize into ice along her back.

Arya’s teeth started chattering, but she still held on tightly to Brienne’s arm, her grip having numbed Brienne’s arm some time ago.

“Don’t worry. We will be found,” Arya suddenly assured her, as if trying to reassure herself. 

“Of course we will, if someone really wants to find us,” Brienne replied hesitantly, her honest doubt about whether they would be picked up finally becoming a certainty, despite hours of reassuring her companion.

“Someone will find me… I’m not destined  to die out here, alone. I have things I want — I need to do.” Arya shivered fiercely. “Gendry will know something is wrong. He’ll look for me when he realises I’ve not come back from my shift.”

Gendry was Arya’s friend. Broad shouldered, tall, a buff, handsome man of few words, but he was a man who obviously worshipped the ground her companion walked on. 

Yet Arya seemed oblivious to Gendry’s watchful appreciation.

“You are so very lucky, Arya,” Brienne told her, “to know that someone would notice that you had not returned.” She shivered slightly. 

 _No one would even notice if I never made it back to my room,_ Brienne realised _, if I just disappeared one day and never went back._

“I think Gendry will definitely notice you are missing.” She grimaced, the thought of such a resourceful young man working out that Arya might be in trouble depressingly reassuring to her as well.

“Have you ever been in love, Brienne?”

_What the —_

Brienne froze momentarily, then paused, then shrugged, only then to nod briefly at the young woman beside her. 

What did it matter what she told Arya? They were doomed to die out here, in the darkness of space, in the bitter cold, from asphyxiation.

“Did it not work out?” Arya asked in a faint whisper, her faint breath starting to frost the helmet so that Brienne could scarcely see her face. “Was it a secret?” 

“I… I never told him. I never had a chance to,” Brienne gasped, too anxious about Arya not to answer. “I didn’t know if he’d want…”  The words choked her, stuck in her craw, until she found it simply easier to mutter, “ His family really didn’t like me.”

 _I’m talking about Jaime,_ she realised silently.

When had Renly been so completely eclipsed by Jaime Lannister? She could hardly recall what Renly Baratheon looked like, _but Jaime..._

“I don’t think it was serious — he was serious,” she murmured.

_Jaime was still out there somewhere. Somewhere amongst the million of specks of light that were all around them._

_Where is he… what is Jaime doing right this moment?_

Ye gods, it was if she was staring deep into his green eyes, even now. The light-headed dizzy feeling seemed to be the same, be it Jaime Lannister or a lack of oxygen — the disorientating effect on her poor senses, identical.

“What are you doing, Brienne?” Ayra muttered.

“Dying… I think,” Brienne told her honestly.

They both fell silent at that. 

Arya’s face slowly disappearing as her helmet iced up became a measure of time for Brienne, Brienne herself dimly aware of drifting in and out of consciousness as her breathing became more and more laboured.  

No regrets.

It was a liberating last thought. 

 _I am not about to regret one thing that has happened,_ Brienne decided hazily as she lingered on the thin line between consciousness and passing out, the prickling sensation of ice crystals forming on her skin preventing her from slipping completely into a senseless state for some time.

  

 

As it was, Gendry did not let them down.

It was a redirected freighter that found the pair of them drifting in space. Brienne was only very dimly aware of a huge metal beast of a ship lumbering up beside them, and of them being hauled finally on board.  

Brienne could hear the air escaping through the closing airlock even as she lay there on the floor. Arya had been pulled aboard first, at Brienne’s insistence. As the senior warehouse employee, she elected to stay in her vac suit until Arya was taken care of. Her suit’s status lights were flickering out, one by one on the inside of her wrist even as she waited patiently for her turn in the decontamination chamber. Brienne had no idea how long she had been lying there, wondering when the air would run out, until a pair of booted feet appeared within her line of vision. The owner of the boots crouched slightly and then growled softly, “I’ve spent all my life staring at Lannister property — care to tell me why I have the oddest feeling I’m staring at some right now? 

Her eyes blinked slowly open in response to his strange observation, but she didn’t recognise the huge man that towered over her. He was big, his face covered down one side with an unsightly scar. 

“I’m n-not…”

“Sandor? Over here,” someone called out to him. 

The man straightened with a deliberate grunt before nudging her with his foot, “Don’t try anything smart aboard my freighter,” he murmured at her before lumbering off. 

And with that, it appeared they were safe.  

On their return to Port BW, there was something of a welcome committee.   

Bouncing back with all the resilience of youth after her ordeal, Arya threw herself into the arms of a waiting Gendry with a loud shout of delight. Meanwhile Brienne felt somewhat overwhelmed by the huge number of people trying to push close as she hobbled from the exit of the vast freighter onto the dock.

“She saved my life. She saved my life!” Arya’s delighted announcement rang out above the din.

Brienne found herself propelled forward. People, complete strangers, were slapping her back.

“I would have died without Brienne Star. She was amazing — she threw herself out of the hangar door after me and told me not to panic.” 

Brienne rolled her eyes and shook her head. “I simply caught you as you sailed past,” she pointed out wearily.

Without warning, a light flashed in her face, and she was momentarily blinded. She could not see a thing. It was so bright, a flickering dark image blooming over her eyelids as she blinked rapidly in a desperate effort to rid herself of the helpless feeling of being partially sightless.

“So, how does it feel to be a hero, Brienne?” the distinctive drawling voice of a vidnews reporter asked her.  

“Me? Me? I’m not a hero,” she mumbled, quickly ducking her gaze to the floor. But the reporter was not to be so easily deterred, interviewing the top of head before turning to Gendry, as Arya was suddenly and mysteriously absent as soon as the cameras appeared.

They all had secrets. That much was very clear.

 

 

Brienne was bruised and battered but returned to work anyway. She had no wish to sit in her cabin and stare at the walls as she recovered from her so called ordeal. 

The devoted Gendry was not about to let Arya from his sight when they started working shifts again in the warehouses, so Brienne had been set to working with the rest of the team instead of in a pair with the diminutive northern girl. 

It was the same old, same old. Pushing and pulling priority cargoes from hangar to hangar. Maybe now was the time to ask about transferring to freight flights, to tell people of her flight qualifications. Make the most of her brief, unwelcome celebrity on Port BW to progress. 

The vidscreens continued to flicker on. 

_Robb Stark to wed into the Frey Collective — Intergalactic argument reignites — Ser Jaime Lannister accedes to head of the Lannister Collective army after brief power struggle within the family — Daring rescue on Port BW…_

_Daring rescue on Port BW?_

_Oh. Ye. Gods._ Filled with dread, Brienne turned her gaze upwards to the massive vidscreen above her head. She watched as the screen was dominated by the dishevelled but still winsomely attractive Arya announcing, “Brienne saved my life. She’s a hero.”

Then a pale, startled, ugly, freckle-faced character was pushed forward towards the camera, and called Brienne Star. The white-lipped, snarling ghost with straggly, string-like hair didn’t look much like her, Brienne thought as she stared at her image, horrified she was there at all. Only just recognising herself as the woman next to a suddenly shy Arya, who was quick to cover her own face when she spied the news team.

 _I look awful,_ she thought.

Brienne became aware of her colleagues stopping behind her and, one by one, starting to look at the vidscreen as well. “You are on the news, Brienne,” one said.

“Would you look at that.”

“Well I never,” said another.

“A man would like it if his workforce would work,” Jaqen H’ghar called out, his tone cold.

“Brienne’s on the vidscreen,” they told him. Jaqen looked up at the screen to view Brienne’s giant image as she avoided answering the interviewer’s questions. “A girl looks knackered,” Jaqen observed softly as he looked at her image.

“I look terrible,” Brienne said shortly, tugging her gloves back on and going back to pulling out crates.  

_Thankfully._

_Mercifully._

It was better that way. No one would recognise her.

 

 


	19. Chapter 19

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gorgeous Banner by Ro Nordmann  
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> Once more, all hail the amazing stayseated for being an absolutely top notch awesome proofreader and suggestion maker!! And for being the only person I know who seems to be able to manage to squeeze thirty hours into a twenty four hour day!!!  
> I do so hope you enjoy! 

Port BW was a warehouse hub on the boundary of the outer rim of known space. It was an anonymous place, run by a commercial organisation rather than a military one. Anyone could stop there if they had the money to pay — and pay well.  It was particularly expensive to dock large military vessels, mainly due to the associated administrative work that went with their presence. Yet, over the last twenty-four standard hours, there had been an unusually large influx of such craft into the remote hub. Battle cruiser class ships had been steadily entering Port BW space at what seemed to be almost set intervals. Elegant, sleek, and deadly, they were docking right the way across the station.

It was not uncommon to see one or two on the odd occasion.

What was uncommon was to see, in number, what amounted to a private fleet of such deadly craft in one place — particularly when that place was a mundane nonentity and almost certainly one of the most boring, unremarkable places in all the known galaxies.

Arya was sitting with Brienne in one of the more respectable bars on BW, looking at the spectacle from one of the gallery windows. She watched Arya studying the vessels, frowning as she reflected on the unpleasant effects of a pounding headache as she did so. Brienne still found she experienced episodes of vertigo from the oxygen deprivation sustained during _the incident,_ usually when really tired. The vertigo was nearly always accompanied by an aching head.

_Which seems to be all the time now._

“What do you think, Brienne?” Arya asked.

“I don’t recognise them,” Brienne replied, trying to focus on Ayra instead of the pain in her head. “Not northern craft as far as I know, definitely not Stormlands Alliance. But there are a lot of them.”

“Gendry thinks it is an invasion force of some type.”

“That is ridiculous. Who are they going to invade? Port BW is a long way from anywhere, and the administration would hardly let them restock if they were a threat to supply relations with either the Crownlands, Westerlands, or the Stormlands authorities.” Brienne took time to complete a long, slow study of the craft in question. “No. I think it’s a show of strength for some reason. Either they are on their way to impress someone or coming back from doing so.”

Brienne’s commlink crackled into life.

Jaqen H'gar’s words were to the point. “Has a girl finished her break? Being late back is a poor way to show a man that your leadership potential might be of use.”

The ex-Stormlands Alliance commander, hotly tipped at one time to become the youngest sector leader ever in fleet history, managed to bite back the overwhelming urge to laugh. In the past, she would have felt such an observation a threat, something to react to. Exactly when it had become a source of amusement, she did not know.

_Maybe when nothing really mattered anymore?_

“We’re on our way.” Brienne followed Arya to her feet. The pilot in Brienne could not resist one last long look at the sleek battleships. They were beautiful. Deadly craft, but at the same time, magnificent. Clear of distinguishing colours, the form, elegance, grace, and symmetry of their sleek lines were all the more apparent to an experienced eye. Brienne sighed, turned on her heel, and returned to pushing cargo.

 

 

Her next shift seemed particularly long and tedious. The pounding in her head dulled to a throb, but was still relentless. Occasionally she would lift or turn her head too quickly and see a new set of stars in addition to the ones surrounding Port BW.

 _I’ll really try and sleep next off period,_ she promised herself. But it was not for lack of trying that she managed to get so little rest. Terrifying nightmares about the air leaching from her claustrophobic cabin, a regular occurrence now, meant that she spent most of her downtime staring hopelessly at the grubby ceiling above her bunk.

 _But lying down is almost the same as actually sleeping,_ she would try and persuade herself, _if I close my eyes_. However, even Brienne had to admit that the headaches and visual disturbances would suggest not. 

On working to negotiate a particularly awkward pallet down the far aisle of hangar thirteen, Brienne became aware of an uneasy sensation that seemed determined to distract her from the job at hand. Using her hand to rub her neck and then her face, Brienne did her best to shake the odd feeling off. She had been feeling uncomfortable in this particular hangar ever since the incident with the door seals and although logic assured her it was highly unlikely that the repaired seals would fail again, she still felt apprehensive.  

 _Hardly surprising._ Brienne found that she simply did not have the same faith in the door engineering anymore, _and it’s quite a reasonable reaction,_ she told herself. Only then did she realise that the overhead vidscreen had been switched off without her even noticing it. During her time on Port BW, the vidscreens had not been off once, not even for maintenance. The silence was deafening, so used was she to the constant background noise of the damn thing.

Her commlink suddenly buzzed to life, its crackling sound startlingly loud.

“Brienne Star!” Jaqen H'qar’s voice sounded intrigued. “Would a girl make her way to the entrance to hangar thirteen?” There followed an odd pause until he lowered his voice and said, “If a girl would be so obliging.”

_It sounds almost like please. Jaqen never says please._

Brienne had, for some time, believed he simply did not have such a sentiment in his vocabulary.

_Ye gods._

The hairs on the back of her neck prickled upright as she started to move warily to the location he had specified. Brienne paced down the central aisle of the hangar. The central was a long, straight approach that bisected the massive hangar in two and could take as long as five to ten minutes to travel on foot.

The rush of adrenaline in her blood dulled her headache just enough to allow her to think.

_Walk slowly._

_Don’t rush into anything._

Ahead under the bright spotlight that illuminated the exit to hangar thirteen, she could clearly see a group of some twenty people standing, watching her approach. Brienne kept walking, scrutinising the group ahead as she stowed her work gloves in the back pockets of her overalls and hung her cable cutters within easy reach of her hand on her utility belt.

 _Just in case,_ she assured herself, _just in case there is trouble._

Brienne didn’t want to think too much about the kind of trouble that could find her in hangar thirteen.

_I need a plan._

_Just in case._ Brienne made a note to later put an extra hole in her belt as it was hanging too low to pull the cable cutters out to use as a weapon if need be. _Hard work and misery are always tough on your bodyweight._

As she drew closer, slowing, she asked, “Did you want to see me?”  

_Lannister red._

Brienne blinked slowly. Now was not the time for an overactive imagination.

After all that had happened, it was hardly surprising if a few even more realistic hallucinations started to creep into her waking hours. Brienne advanced cautiously, blinking rapidly as she did so, not trusting her own eyes.

Too many late shifts, too little sleep, night terrors about being lost in deep space, day terrors about hangar doors being compromised again. _This is what happens when you don’t give in to exhaustion,_ she berated herself silently.

She blinked again, her tired eyes feeling gritty and sore as she succumbed to the urge to rub them, hoping that as she looked up again the unlikely group surrounding Jaqen H'qar would have disappeared. An aberration that now included a formidable contingent of Westerland fighters clad in the distinctive red and gold of the Lannister collective.

 _But no Jaime,_ she thought with relief, at least her exhausted mind was going to stop short of complete insanity. Then the group split in half.

He stood at the head of the group, armed to the teeth in full combat dress, his face so stern that Brienne almost did not recognise him.  

“Are you expecting trouble?” she asked hoarsely, taking a deep breath in the hope that reality might yet reassert itself. Her disbelief at the meeting seemed mirrored in the face of the man, dressed as if ready for war.

He stepped forward, stopping a pace away from her — silent, green eyes sharp, not missing a thing as he studied her. The group of men with him stood oddly to attention, their demeanour silent yet watchful. Meanwhile, he stood quite still for a moment, as if he was attempting to master his reaction to her appearance before he moved.

 _I’m losing it… I’m losing my mind,_ she thought as she stumbled over a joint in the hangar floor. _I’m really, finally, going quite mad. Maybe I have already gone quite mad and didn’t notice..._

Her knees seemed to lose some of their bounce, and she sagged as she continued to step forward, stumbling slightly.

A pair of strong arms caught her by her elbows as she almost fell. She had not expected to encounter anything solid at all.

It’s real, Brienne suddenly realised, numb. He’s real.

“Brienne.” He whispered in her ear, holding her so tight she could scarcely move. He tucked her as far as he could into him. She was in danger of being spectacularly crushed by some serious body armour. Her wire cutters angled their way painfully into her flank as he squeezed her tight. “Brienne,” he whispered into her hair. “Brienne.”

“It’s...” Brienne gasped. “It’s you!” She didn’t care if he crushed her — at least she’d die happy.

“Hey, Brienne?” Arya had just returned with a fresh set of pallets and was studying the interlopers with suspicion. “What is this? What is going on? Jaqen?”

“A man has come to rescue Brienne Star,” Jaqen H'qar sounded politely amused at the large contingent of Westerland soldiers in his midst, and not at all intimidated. “That a man has come with an army for one girl, when she is not a prisoner here, does suggest she is shortly about to become a prisoner somewhere else.”

“Is that what you came here to do?” Arya’s voice was soft as she addressed Jaime Lannister directly. “To try and take Brienne prisoner?”

Jaime’s voice was softer than she remembered. “Is that what you think?”

He released her from his close embrace immediately, not even retaining a hold on her arms. Brienne swayed slightly at Jaime’s shoulder as he let go, both of them facing the suspicious crowd of warehouse personnel with the platoon of Westerlanders at their backs.

“Brienne?” Jaime whispered. His face was as shadowed and stern as she had ever seen it. He seemed unable not to reach out and touch her hand briefly, and then her arm, as if he found it hard to believe she was real.

 _What had his father told him about my departure,_ she thought, _and what might Cersei have told him?_

“I feared you dead,” he murmured.

“Dead?” Brienne was hard-pushed to suppress a snort of disbelief.

“There was a message… from the Stormlands.” Jaime raised a hand to his face and rubbed it hard. “I cannot believe that I am standing here talking to you!”

With a sudden whoop, he grabbed her and spun her round and round until she was forced to protest, squawking she was going to be sick. When Jaime returned her to her feet, the assembled warehouse crews had visibly relaxed. Brienne felt touched at the crew’s protective stance.

“How did you find me?” Brienne asked, bewildered.

_It had to be the vidcast._

“You did a bloody excellent job of covering your tracks,” Jaime growled. “Now that I am here, it seems obvious that this is one of the first places we should have looked. Tyrion spent some time working through a huge list of places we thought might be a logical destination. We looked everywhere else with no luck. Until the vidcast.” Jaime shook his head. “A vidcast. And it had to be that vidcast, some daring life or death rescue on Port BW. Once I had recovered from the shock of almost losing you twice…” Jaime seemed to be warming to his theme until he was interrupted by a cough from Jaqen H'qar.

“This is surely most interesting, but a man’s picking list will not select itself.” Jaqen H'qar pulled his face into a mild frown. “ And yet a girl says nothing. A girl keeps her mouth closed. No one hears. And friends may talk in secret, yes?”

“Sorry Jaqen.” Brienne frowned at Jaime even as she apologised to her boss.

“I don’t mean her any harm — -”

Jaime started to explain but was cut off abruptly by Jaqen H’gar’s irritated flick of his wrist. He went on to say, “And of this I was always aware. But a girl keeps secrets. It is not for a man to spoil them.”

“By the seven, I don’t believe it!” Arya started to laugh softly. “Ye gods, Brienne … is this your secret? Jaime Lannister was the one you — ”

She cast a panicked look at Arya who immediately fell silent.

“You knew about me?” Brienne asked Jaqen, suspicious.

Jaqen frowned slightly. “The Red God takes what is his, lovely girl. And only death may pay for life. You saved one. You stole a death from the Red God, Brienne Tarth. We have to give one back. Speak a name, and a man will do the rest. One life I will give you. No more, no less. And we're done.”

“Are you asking me for a name?” She asked. He can’t mean —  

“Stannis Baratheon has issued a warrant for you to be brought to him dead or alive,” Jaime told her dryly. “I was terrified I would not be the first one to find you.”

Jaqen H’gar raised a brow and then nodded slowly, first at Jaime and then at Brienne.

“So, it seems we must part. A man has duties,” Jaqen H’gar informed her softly, even as he looked from Jaime to Brienne and back again.

“Come on,” Jaime told her, finally seizing her elbow and dragging her towards him slightly.

“Will it not put you in danger, being with me?” she asked him. “Because I am not about to run the risk of losing … of causing a civil war or risking an assassin’s knife because you chose to take me back into space.”

“While I have been looking for you, Brienne, Tyrion and myself have worked hard to consolidate our positions within the current political arena. If you agree to join with us, you will not regret it,” Jaime told her, a wry twist to his mouth.

The battleships currently docked at BW were his, she suddenly realised. “You make it sound like a mutually beneficial alliance,” Brienne observed drily, starting to feel reluctantly overwhelmed. “It is,” Jaime told her. “You are the heir of Tarth after all. Do you accept then, Brienne?” Jaime asked her.

Brienne looked away, before turning back to study him. Could she do this? She desperately wanted to. She’d never wanted anything as much as this, but could she do this and still keep her heart intact?

_He’s offering me a political alliance, nothing else._

“Oh, yes. Okay then. Let’s do it,” Brienne capitulated, aware of suffocating warmth in the region of her heart. “Just don’t make me regret this.” She took a deep breath thinking of Stannis, Tywin, Cersei, all the reasons she should say no. “And I hope you don’t either.”

“I’m not about to regret anything,” Jaime told her abruptly as he turned to address his men.  

 

 


	20. Chapter 20

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He looked straight back at her, before releasing a small huff of air and then looking away.  
> “You will tell me,” he finally told her, “eventually.”  
> Brienne simply blinked slowly in the face of his certainty and felt her heart sink. She simply was not ready to place her fragile heart beneath the heel of Jaime’s boot.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Banner by Ro Nordmann  
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> Once more, stayseated has been awesome giving me suggestions and asking those questions that never even occur to me!!!  
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On returning to his ship, Jaime had dismissed his troops with a few terse words before Brienne found herself backed into an anteroom by him. No words were necessary, he simply glared at her for an eon before finally asking, “Why? Why did you leave me Brienne?”

He held her by the shoulders, his gauntleted fingers digging into the flesh and bone as he studied her face, his green eyes mapping her features as if trying to memorize every freckle, every blemish present.

All Brienne could do was avoid his gaze and stare mutely at the floor. _What can I say? Because your father,Tywin, gave me no option and your sister gave me no quarter, so I walked away._

_Because I love you._

Shocked, she kept her eyes down.

_Ye gods, I love him._

The effort required to raise her eyes to his and re-engage his green gaze bordered on the superhuman.

“Tell me,” he insisted, shaking her slightly but all Brienne did was frown at him and then stare at the floor, her mouth turning down slightly.

“There’s nothing to tell,” she mumbled.

Jaime cornered her, his body armour blocking her view of the door. Refusing to be intimidated she straightened her spine, and looked Jaime straight in his fathomless green gaze, “There is nothing to tell you Jaime,” Brienne insisted stubbornly.

He looked straight back at her, before releasing a small huff of air and then looking away.

“You will tell me,” he finally told her, “eventually.”

Brienne simply blinked slowly in the face of his certainty and felt her heart sink. She simply was not ready to place her fragile heart beneath the heel of Jaime’s boot.

“Can I go now Jaime?” she asked him politely.

Jaime rolled his eyes before stepping back and away from her.

“Of course. Go, get some rest.”

  
  


They went deep into space, far deeper than Brienne had ever been before. So deep that Brienne was convinced they were probably off the charts of any mappings possessed by the Stormlands Fleet. Despite his scorching glances and terse conversation, Jaime didn’t touch her but spent all his time at the controls of his galaxy class battleship, or at least that was what she was told.

His crew gave her a wide berth, not hostile but not particularly friendly either. They ensured that although her door was not locked, she did not get further than the end of the narrow corridor that ran past her cabin.

Brienne had been sleeping with one eye open waiting for Jaime to walk through her door. It left her alternating between a state of intense excitement at the prospect of him repeating anything like her experience after her ‘liberation’ from Port BW, and supreme irritation at his ability to shake her composure.   
  


She could scarcely sleep, and her sleep, when she did manage to persuade her body that it needed to rest, was filled with lurid dreams. Jaime naked, Jaime starting towards her with that certain glint in his eye. At that point, she would usually lurch awake. However, it was slowly dawning on her that she may have got things quite spectacularly wrong, particularly as

Jaime had yet to show himself at all. What she had not anticipated was that the disappointment would be quite so gnawingly acute.

If he didn’t want her for sex, and he didn’t want her to pilot a ship, what did he want her for? That question alone was enough to make her think she should make her excuses and leave at the first opportunity but the worst aspect of this whole affair was the tiny inner voice that kept muttering away at her.

_He came for me for me. Jaime thought I was in trouble and he came for me._

_But is was his family who sent me away in the first place_ , she reminded herself grimly. It was his father, Tywin Lannister, that insisted she leave, Brienne fumed to herself, and she had gone because she loved him.

_And you came across vast regions of space to find me again? Why did you do that Jaime?_

But the man himself was not around to answer.

Jaime finally made his appearance with a full dress uniform over his arm.

Speechless, she glared at him, Jaime stared back. He stood watching her for a few minutes before tossing the pile of blue and silver clothing onto her bed.

“What’s this for?” Brienne enquired politely, her eyes unable to poring over every curve and line of him whilst avoiding looking him directly in the eye. The rush of desire that flooded her body as he stepped into her room would surely show if she looked at him. It occurred to Brienne that someone must have been brave enough to guess the size of her clothing in order to source the items that he had just brought in.

“What do you think it is for?” He asked her.

“To make me blend in more easily with the rest of the Lannister collective maybe?”

“You’ll never blend in easily,” Jaime told her, “Just put it on, we’re going out.”

She finally looked down at the pile of material in her lap.

It was the dress uniform of a Stormlands Elite Force Captain.

_Where in seven hells did he get such a thing?_

Brienne felt her jaw tighten as she stole a quick glance at his face. He was tense. One could never describe Jaime as nervous but there was a definite sense of being battle alert about him on this occasion.

_What was going on?_

They were currently docked at a space station deep within the perimeters of northern space that was obviously an important conference hub. Brienne had no idea how long they had travelled to reach this place, but her experienced eye had instantly noted the size and firepower of each of the craft present as Jaime had bought his own ship into dock. She recognised some older ex-Stormlands and Riverlands craft which had likely been captured by northern inhabitants during cross border skirmishes.

She shuddered. It was a timely reminder of just how unpopular the Stormlands forces under Stannis were in these parts and now Jaime was about to dress her up and parade her in all her glory around them like a piece of prize livestock.

Now she really did want to know why.

Brienne was right about the lack of popularity of the Galaxy Stormlands Fleet. As they docked and she finally dressed to trail round after Jaime, there was no mistaking the surly stares that followed her as she moved about the massive hall that seemed to be all glass and stars. People muttered behind their hands as she walked past. She half expected at least three people to spit on her uniform but Jaime’s presence seemed to be sufficient to make them hold their fire.

 _For now,_ thought Brienne nervously, keeping her head down and nervously fingering the ornate collar that denoted ‘captain,’ the same rank that everyone had been calling her by since Jaime had ‘collected’ her from the far flung reaches of space.

A tall dark-haired man stepped in front of them, halting their progress.

“A humble fleet captain, Ser Jaime? You must be getting desperate for company.”

“Lord Commander Snow,” Jaime acknowledged the man curtly. “It’s been some time.”

“Indeed it has.” He turned his attention to Brienne, studying her uniform with interest. “You are a long way from home Captain.”

“I am,” she replied stiffly, rubbing the collar between thumb and forefinger as she suffered the man’s long study.

The man called Snow looked at the collar, at her again, and then at Jaime.

“Who is she?” He asked Jaime abruptly, flicking his head in Brienne’s direction as he did so.

“No one.” Brienne was willing Jaime to make his excuses and get her out of there. The man’s eyes were tracking over her face as if to commit every feature to memory. That could only mean trouble, and she would still like to return to neutral space with her hide intact.

“You are not from the Westerlands are you?” The man asked her, finally directing a question straight at her instead of Jaime.

“No, she’s not.” Jaime replied for her.

“Are you from one of the Inner Reach Worlds?”

“No.” She answered with such a growl that the man gave a brief laugh and raised a hand to beckon at another man weaving his way towards them across the room. The newcomer was rather larger than the man before her, huge, tall, and broad with a shock of hair on both his chin and his head. “Do you ask this many questions of every person you meet?”

Brienne asked him rudely.

“No,” Snow replied moving his gaze to that of the man next to him, who raised his brows in response. “I’ve made an exception for you. I have some idea of what I can expect from Ser Jaime’s collective … but you … you are a new face this far north.”

“I am no part of any collective,” she lied softly.

“Not even that of the Evenstar?”

Brienne froze, darting a startled look at Jaime. It was one thing to be so obviously a captured member of the fleet but to admit to being a member of a collective sworn to Stannis under these circumstances was tantamount to expressing a wish for an immediate and speedy end.

Jaime had her hand in a punishing grip, beyond punishing, in fact. Whatever he had planned, it obviously had not included these two individuals confronting her about her allegiances. A life within the Stormlands elite forces had taught her the hard way that sometimes honesty was the only policy.

“I am Brienne of Tarth,” Brienne informed him quietly, her eyes flicking from the one called Lord Snow, to the tall man, and then to Jaime.

Snow simply nodded at her response.

 _He knows who I am,_ Brienne realised, _he must have known all along_. Meanwhile, Jaime’s face was a furious mask.

Brienne shifted from foot to foot uneasily.

“Brienne of Tarth. We’ve heard something of you.” Snow’s expression for a moment became slightly less urbane and a look of savage fury crossed his features before it was quickly masked by a polite smile. “Lord Commander Jon Snow, at your service Brienne of Tarth.”

Lord Snow, one of the lost sons of the Stark Collective and commander of the extreme Rim forces bowed over her hand.

“Tormund Giantsbane,” said his companion, as he also extended his hand to encompass hers in a bone crushing shake. Giantsbane was the leader of the clans that bore no allegiance to the inner space collectives. They had been disparate groups spread about the hostile reaches of rim space until recently.

_There had been rumours for a long time of a massive gathering of the clans._

Jaime could not finish his conversation and make his polite excuses fast enough. Once he had, he swiftly left the two men, towing her across the expanse of the hall behind him before pulling her round into the shelter of a large pillar. “How the hell do you know them?” he asked.

“I don’t know them,” she told him.

“They knew who you are.”

“A lot of people know who I am in the Stormlands. I’m the ungrateful daughter of Selwyn Tarth. The one that chose a career over her collective. The daughter that has chosen a rival collective over her own family.”

“A family scandal?” Jaime looked at her as she’d lost her wits. “They don’t look like the type to be listening to a few rounds of petty gossip, Brienne.”

“Why are we here, Jaime?” Brienne asked him, not unkindly.

“Because we need to be,” he replied bitterly, turning away from her to study the assembled guests again. Jaime’s expression was rigid, his jaw tense. “It’s a matter of survival. If we do not act and soon, it will not matter what collective you claim allegiance to.” With those cryptic words he turned from her to study the occupants of the massive hall once more.

“That’s not an answer, Jaime,” she insisted.

No one here had looked happy to see either of them. Brienne realised, but of the two of them she seemed to be the least popular.

“Jaime, why am I here?” Brienne asked again. She was here because he had saved her life, here because she finally realised that, despite everything, she loved him.

But what did Jaime want her for? He had sought her out, managed to find her in the most obscure place she had managed to think up in the universe.

_It wasn’t that easy to hide from Ser Jaime Lannister._

“I have unfinished business. I made a promise to someone that I need to see through to the end,” Jaime finally told her. “You see? You aren’t the only one who makes the occasional stupid promise.”

 


End file.
